


Rivendell and the Misty Mountains, Are we really only half way there?

by Sargerogue



Series: The Line of Wanderers [8]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Finding Family, Goblin Town actually, Goblins have long memories and remember a certain Hobbit, Just warning for treatment of our hobbit-dwarf okay, M/M, So I didn't know how to tag one chapter, There's a reason females don't travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 11:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15662304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sargerogue/pseuds/Sargerogue
Summary: The Company arrives at Rivendell where Bifur gets a chance to investigate Freye's possession of his grandfather's sword. They spend time healing and training while waiting for the right moon phase to read the moon runes. After fleeing Rivendell when Saruman and Galadriel arrive, the hell that is the Misty Mountains begins. At least Beorn's home is safe.





	1. 5-26-2941; Trollshaws

**Author's Note:**

> You and I both know I don't own this. 
> 
> I tried not to recap the movie too much. 
> 
> Oh, there are side stories for this as well. Some of them will be in Tresses as Black as Night and as Golden as the Sun.
> 
> Another thing, Hobbit history is changed in this. I honestly don't see how Hobbits are from Men, pointed ears! They have to have something else in there. So yes, I took Hobbit history and changed it to suit my needs.

The majority of the Company did not rouse until the noon sun was high overhead. By that time, Gandalf had returned and taken up the watch so Thorin might get some rest.

“All right lass, let’s look at that leg again,” Óin said coming over. Freye scooted over to a downed tree and sat upon it, allowing the old healer better access. “How is it feeling?”

“Well enough.”

“Let’s clean it again and change the bandage then.” Freye grumbled as he worked, creative curses falling from her lips as the stinging pain settled back in. A hand took hers, squeezing it gently. She looked next to her to see Fíli. He smiled sadly. She leaned into his shoulder for comfort.

“I found the troll cave,” Gandalf commented. “If you wish to investigate it, Thorin.”

“Best to make sure there are no other trolls nearby,” Thorin agreed. “We will stay another night; we are not in shape to move today. Fíli, Brynye, Óin, stay with Freye here. The rest of us will investigate, including you Master Burglar. We might need that quick tongue of yours again if there are any lingering trolls in the area.” Bilbo looked at Freye who gave him an encouraging nod.

The group split up, Ori and Kíli leaving the second group to tend to the horses again. At the camp, Brynye helped Freye change into fresh pants and took her bloodied ones to the side to wash and mend. She took Kíli's bedroll as well; the least she could do was get the blood stain out before it was well and truly set in.

“Would you like to lie down again?” Fíli asked Freye.

“I’d like to do a lap around the camp, if you’ll help me.” He nodded and pulled her up as he stood. It took a moment to find the best spot for her to grasp onto as they walked. She cursed loudly as she walked, the pain flaring with every step, but she insisted on doing a few laps around the clearing. When she was done, Fíli helped her sit down against the downed tree and joined her.

“Your grandmother,” he said slowly, “I remember her from when she still lived in Ered Luin, your dad vaguely too. I was eighteen when Mistress Brynye left the mountain to live in Bree with her son and his wife. I remember Amad complain about losing the only dwarrowdam she could stand. She was kind to me. She taught Kíli how to use his bow.”

“Sigin’amad seems to know everyone,” Freye snorted.

“How old are you?” Fíli asked. His sheepish tone was meant to be curious but instead she took it as an insult as many people had done before.

“Oh please don’t start that I’m too young to be here,” Freye bemoaned.

“I was just curious. I know you mature differently. How do you know if you’re ready to court or adventure?”

“Oh Mahal and Yavanna.” Freye cleared her throat. “I’m fifty-nine. Adad matured around fifty. Sigin’amad watched my milestones, I matched his closely.” Fíli hummed.

There was a great clamor from the woods. The sound of laughing dwarrows prevented Fíli from pulling his blade but it was a close thing.

“How could you give him a sword? He’s going to get himself killed just practicing with it,” Dwalin barked at Gandalf. The two young dwarrows looked up to see Bilbo walking into the camp with an elfish blade on his hip. It was short for an elfish sword but fit Bilbo’s frame perfectly. “Giving a halfling a sword, someone is going to get hurt.” Freye took out a knife and threw it at Dwalin’s feet, narrowly missing the dwarf’s boots. He looked up at her as Bilbo reached down to snag the blade and tossed it back to his cousin. It landed in her hand handle first.

“Master Dwalin, did you know that most adventurous hobbits learn a weapon? Mostly the bow, the eyesight of hobbits is precise like an elf’s or like Kíli’s. Some choose other weapons, like swords. Do not doubt my cousin because he is a hobbit. If you continue to, I will introduce you to some of our Took cousins one day. They will certainly show you that there is more to fighting than weaponry,” Freye stated.

“Don’t forget about Old Bullroarer,” Brynye piped up. “Nearly as tall as a dwarf. Some people think he was a half-breed too. Sometimes I wonder if the Took Clan didn’t lie with a fairy but with a dwarf, maybe both.” She snorted slightly.

“Bullroarer?” Kíli asked.

“Bandobras Took,” Gandalf answered as he sat down. “Son of Thain Isumbras III. Led the hobbits in the Battle of the Greenfields, the only battle to have occurred in the Shire in centuries. Took the head off a goblin with his club. The head landed in a rabbit hole. There’s a rumor that’s where the game of golf came from.”

“And you started that rumor,” Brynye commented. “You told that story enough times after the battle. Disturber of the peace, that’s what you are Gandalf.”

“How much you want to bet they actually label him that after sweeping Bilbo out Bag End?” Freye asked her grandmother.

“No bet.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Fíli, you’re to help Bilbo learn how to fight,” Thorin instructed his nephew. “Master Baggins, have you seen any food to forage?”

“Saw some berries and a few leafy greens that would do well in a soup. Master Ori, care to join me?” Bilbo asked as he sheathed his sword and grabbed a sack from his pack to use to gather food. Ori jumped at the opportunity to work with Bilbo. The Company settled in to work on various tasks. Thorin looked at Brynye.

“Bullroarer?”

“Sounded like a bull when he gave his war cry,” Brynye answered. Thorin simply shook his head and took to polishing his new sword.

  


Supper that night was a jolly affair, mostly because the dwarrows were celebrating living after their close call. Bofur, like a bloodhound attuned to alcohol, had found a cellar under one of the burned chunks of the farmhouse. While the ale he found was not of dwarfish make, it was a stronger variant of Men's and the dwarrows were happy to partake. That led to Bilbo drinking a bit and teaching the dwarrows the lyrics to a song he'd devised. The song, "The Man in the Moon Stayed Up Too Late," was an instant hit with the dwarrows who quickly picked up the lyrics and sang it themselves. Bofur changed them a bit but Bilbo didn't seem to mind and laughed as the miner sung to his heart's content.

The only ones to not partake in drink were Freye, Thorin, Ori, Fíli, and Gandalf. Kíli did not drink much, neither did Brynye, Balin, and Dwalin. This led to, when the songs had quieted down, Ori asking questions of the newcomers. He was grateful to learn anything he could of their journey to follow the Company and diligently wrote in his tome about their experiences.

"Mistress Freye?" Ori asked hesitantly after Brynye had finished speaking. "Could I ask you something about Hobbit culture? Master Baggins said you would know the answer."

"You may only ask if you call me Freye," she replied. "You're technically older than me Ori, years wise."

The dwarf blushed a bit and asked, "Could you tell me where Hobbits come from? Their creation? Their Vala?"

"Of course! I don't get to talk of it often. So many in the Shire are just happy to know that Hobbits will be left alone; they never ask about history. I'll gladly tell you." She straightened up against the pack she leaned against and drank from her waterskin. "Now then, we'll start with where Hobbits come from. You see, Hobbits were not created, nor are they shortened versions of Men, though there are some lines who have Men in their roots.

"Now, originally Hobbits come from the Vale of Anduin. Almost all lines of Hobbits can be traced back to there. There are a few select lines that can't be but they joined with those from the Vale soon enough. Oh Mahal, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's put it this way: what two races border the Vale of Anduin and have for as long as can be remembered?" she asked Ori.

"Dwarrows!" Kíli declared, burping slightly and lifting his cup to his lips once more. "The Misty Mountains were once our home, though few remain there today."

"Elves as well," Ori finished. "From the books, the elves have always been around the Vale, whether to the south or the east."

"Correct. Now, looked at my dear cousin. What do you see? Ears like an elf, yes. Height reminiscent of a dwarf? And it appears his beard has migrated down to his feet! Wouldn't you agree?" she asked her audience again.

"You mean Hobbits are half-elf and half-dwarf?" Glóin, who was actually paying attention surprisingly, asked.

"With a few Men and Fairy thrown in as well. The Vale was where elves and dwarrows met without fear of prejudice from their races. They had many children. Men joined the communities as well. There is evidence that the original family of Tooks, their family name lost to the generations despite the Teller's history keeping, laid with fairies before their trip over the Misty Mountains. Soon, there were no Elves, Dwarrows, or Men left in the Vale, only their hybrid children who were slowly mixing bloodlines until they had identical makeups. The population expanded steadily for years.

"Despite their heritage back to Men, Dwarrows, and Elves, their ancestors' Valar did not wish to claim them. Eru treated them indifferently, they were not the immortal elves that had helped spawn the race. Mahal tended to them the best he could but he was too hard for such soft creatures. His wife, the Lady Yavanna, did as her husband could not and tended to the Hobbits as if they were her own children, with the same fondness she showed the Ents. Eru and Mahal, after watching Yavanna tend to the Hobbits for several generations, agreed that she should be their guardian.

"Of course she had conditions for this position. She was no fool and wished for her children to be treated as best as they could be. She had Eru create the Gardens of Yavanna, where Hobbits would go when they passed. The Gardens are, so they say, beside Mahal's Halls and the Hall of Mandos, and the Undying Lands. Any Hobbit that found themselves uncomfortable in the Gardens could go to a hall of their ancestors to see if they belonged there. Many have travelled to the Halls of Mahal or so Aiwendil has told.

"She also desired for her children to have a language wholly their own. How was it fair that the Dwarrows, Men, and Elves had ways to keep their secrets and her children did not? She weaved inside the Hobbits a new language, one kept deep in our souls. Few know it now, the Hobbits speaking Common Tongue since they moved the the Shire at the least. It was noted in a few journals how they exchanged words with some of the Men that lived in the Vale for a time.

"The last gifts she desired to give her children was magic of a sort. So small and meek Hobbits were, they would defenceless against most foes. So, she taught them magic. She taught them how to be in-tune with the earth, how to feel her presence in all things and call upon it to perform acts. There is a reason why Hobbits have such fine gardens, they tap into that skill unconsciously. Those that can do it consciously can influence much more. They can ask the trees to do their bidding, confuse those that threaten the Shire's borders. Those that have the gift to heal can call upon the magic to heal wounds and bring those close to death back, the Old Tongue aiding in calling upon such magic. The Noakes family, who adopted my grandmother, is one such family, a Teller Family that passes these traditions down through the ages. Each child knows the history of the Hobbits and those with gifts harness them to their best ability.

"It is said that when Hobbits were given to Yavanna, Eru and Mahal gave them gifts as well. Eru gave them their sight and aim, so that they may match Elves in skill when the time came. Mahal gave them something much more precious, a gift he forged with his wife and with the blessing of Eru." Freye cleared her throat and drew from her waterskin. She looked at her grandmother, unsure if she should continue.

"They should know," Brynye said. "If there was ever a chance to come across the gift again, it would be when dwarrows and hobbits travel together through the Vale."

"It's a physical gift?" Ori asked.

"Aye." Freye took a stick and drew an oval in the dirt. "It's a special gem, one that is not a gem at all. It pulses with life, alive and waiting. In the ground, it blesses the lands to grown green and bountiful. When used by hobbits, it gives the gift of life where there would otherwise be none. One has not been found since the days in the Vale, though there is one in the Shire, placed there after arrival."

"So wait, if Hobbits have magic, can you and Bilbo use it?" Kíli asked.

"Oh not me," Bilbo replied quickly. "While my mother's family, the Tooks, are known for their peculiarities, they have not had that gift in the family. The Baggins side either. Freye and Nana Noakes are the only ones I can think of that have the gift."

"There's a few in the other farthings. There are two Brandybucks actually," Freye informed him. "I finished my hands-on training with them after Nana passed."

"So could you use magic on your leg?" Ori asked.

"No. Hobbit magic comes from within and the environment. Even if I called on all the energy in an area, I would still have some taken from myself. I would make my injuries worse. I think that's why Óin didn't ask me to try. Right Master Óin?" she asked. The greying dwarf nodded along.

"Thought that was the case," he answered. "Brynye has told me about the healing gift before."

"How is your leg?" Dwalin asked.

"No signs of infection yet," Freye replied.

"Be that as it may, I would like to get you to a proper shelter where that can be tended to better. Thorin, we're not far from Rivendell," Óin said and cast his eyes to their king. "Even a short stop will improve her chances."

All eyes turned to Thorin. He puffed on his pipe before nodding. "We'll stop there. Brynye is bound for there anyway and I would see her to their borders before parting."

"I think I will leave the convincing of your leader to the Company from now on," Gandalf remarked. "I've been twisting his arm for days."

Thorin blew a smoke cloud at the wizard just to irritate him.


	2. 5-29-2941; Near Rivendell

The Company had been riding for several hours when they heard the sounds of a someone giving chase behind them. Thorin ordered them to stand their ground.

“Thieves! Fire! Murder!” a cry came. A sled pulled by rabbits appeared, stopping short of the Company. The old man on the sled looked around, suddenly surprised to have encountered people, but hurried from his sled toward Gandalf who had swung off his horse.

“Radagast! Radagast the Brown,” Gandalf said. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you Gandalf. Something’s wrong. Something is terribly wrong.”

“Yes?”

The wizard went to reply but his mind failed him. He struggled to find the words. “Just give me a minute. Oh! I had a thought and now I’ve lost it. It was right there on the tip of my tongue.” His speech started to change as he stuck his tongue out a bit. “Oh, it’s not a thought at all. It’s a silly old stick insect,” Radagast said as Gandalf pulled the insect off his tongue. Gandalf looked a mix between an amused older brother and the type of brother that wanted o clobber his brother for being an idiot.

“Dismount from the ponies,” Thorin instructed. “Give them rest while the wizards talk. Freye, stay mounted. I saw you favoring your leg this morning.”

Ori and Dori led the horses to a nearby stream to drink, Freye following with her pony long enough for it to drink before rejoining the group by Radagast. She stopped her pony alongside Fíli and dismounted, sitting on the log beside him. She held its reins in hand.

“You should be resting on his back,” Fíli remarked.

“Better to give him a break,” Freye answered.

Across the clearing, Radagast spoke of the darkness in the Greenwood and how it was now called Mirkwood. He spoke of giant spiders in the forest and of Dol Guldur. He warned of a necromancer in the old fortress as well. Bilbo and Bombur had taken to handing out rolls to the group. Freye munched on hers while receiving a lighthearted glare from Thorin.

A sudden howl caught the attention of everyone present. The pony tried to bolt but Freye calmed him.

“Was that a wolf? Are there wolves in these woods?” Bilbo questioned.

“Nay, Cousin. Remember those howls, the Fell Winter,” Brynye spoke. “That’s worse than a wolf. Freye, on your pony!”

“Behind you!” Fíli shouted and pointed behind Brynye and Bilbo. Fíli took the reins from Freye as she notched an arrow and shot at the warg stalking them from above, Kíli joining in firing at it. It managed to tackle Dori before a killing shot landed, but Thorin drove his sword deep into the foul beast to make certain. Another warg emerged from the woods behind Thorin. This time, Kíli and Freye had enough time to fire their arrows properly. Dwalin still cut its spine for good measure.

“Warg scouts. Which means an orc pack is not far behind,” Thorin declared.

“Orc pack?” Bilbo asked.

“Who did you tell about your quest beyond your kin?” Gandalf questioned.

“No one.”

“Who did you tell?!”

“No one I swear!” Thorin stared down the old wizard. “What in Durin’s name is going on?”

“You’re being hunted,” Gandalf replied.

“We have to get out of here,” Dwalin said.

“We can’t,” Ori said from up in the rocks. “We have no ponies. They bolted!”

“I have mine,” Freye said moving toward hers. “I can lead them off. It’ll give you a head start.”

“That’s suicide!” Fíli objected.

“The lad is right. No lass, I’ll lead them away,” Radagast reasoned.

“These are Gundabad wargs,” Gandalf growled. “They will out run you.”

“These are Rhosgobel rabbits. I’d like to see them try,” Radagast replied.

“It’ll be hard to conceal a lone rider, but you cannot run on that leg,” Thorin said. “Fíli, ride with her. If the pony falls, I trust you with her. Get to Rivendell if we are separated. Freye, if the orcs get close, use your bow before they find us.”

“Then you best take this.” She took off her heavy sword. “Can’t afford to over tax the pony.” Thorin took it from her grasp, nodding in understanding. Fíli mounted the pony and offered a hand up. Freye shook her head and climbed up backwards, using the lashings for her pack to keep her in place. “Better for shooting.” She pulled out her bow and adjusted her quiver.

Radagast took off ahead of them when the wargs got closer. The Company followed into the clearing, hiding behind rocks as they ran. As Fíli and Freye were following at least one rock formation behind at a time, they spotted the warg and rider break off from the rest of the pack. Fíli warned her before he spurred the pony. Freye shot the orc, knocking him off the warg, and shot the warg as well. The warg chased after them, howling to alert the rest of the pack. The Company had enough time to run and with the pony leading the pack elsewhere, they had more time.

As the warg fell to the ground dead, the rest of the pack was upon them. Fíli pushed the stallion to go faster as Freye shot her arrows with an accuracy that matched Kíli’s. Fíli used a throwing knife to take out the throat of one orc as it neared and Freye got the warg.

A spear pierced through the pony’s belly, between their legs luckily, just as the hunting horn of elves sounded. The pony and dwarrows tumbled to the ground as the elves fell upon the orcs with lethal accuracy. Freye, trapped beneath her steed and certain that her leg was bleeding again, took out two more wargs while Fíli slew a thrown orc rider with his blades. With the aid of the elves, the fight was over quickly.

“Fíli!” The older dwarf hurried back to her, kneeling beside her while scanning the approaching elves. Freye took the ties off her legs. Fíli pushed the dead beast up and pulled her out from beneath it. She let out a scream as the wound pressed into the ground painfully.

“Easy,” he shushed.

“I think I’m bleeding again. It feels warm,” Freye panted. She fell back onto the earth, allowing Fíli a chance to look at her leg. He took out a knife and cut her pant leg open. It was indeed bleeding again, the stain already appearing on her pants.

The horses came to a halt behind them. Fíli took up a defensive position over Freye. He was not certain what would happen. One of the elves, the clear leader, stepped down from his horse and raised his hands as he walked forward.

“Our home is near,” he said. “We will give you aid and see her tended to.”

“The others,” Fíli said softly to Freye.

“If you didn’t notice, Gandalf did disappear with them. I would stake my sword that they are already in Rivendell by now,” Freye said. “Grandmother said we were nearly there.”

“Aye, you are,” the elf said and knelt down beside the pair. “Healing in a rush? We can fix your leg, so it will work at its best. I am Lord Elrond. You are friends of Gandalf?”

“Travelling with him,” Freye replied. “I am Freye Took and this is Fíli.” She groaned and leaned into Fíli. “Oh Yavanna this hurts.”

“Elladan, my healing pack,” Elrond called back. “Elrohir, move their things onto your horse. You’ll have to share with Elladan on the way back.” Elladan came forward with his father’s pack. The older half-elf treated the wound and bandaged it firmly. “This should stop the bleeding until we get to Rivendell. Let us get you back to your kith and kin.” Fíli nodded hesitantly. He helped Freye up and one of Elrond’s sons helped him lift her onto the horse before giving him a boost himself. Fíli thanked him and cradled Freye against his chest, the dwarrowdam leaning into his warmth and comfort. They rode beside Elladan and Elrohir to reach Rivendell. Elladan clutched Freye’s pack in his hand, admiring the stitching.

They reached Rivendell soon enough, descending into a scene of chaos. The dwarrows all flocked together, pulling Bilbo to safety in the midst of them. Gandalf and Brynye stood to the side watching. Brynye seemed to be in the middle of a conversation with Lindir as Elrond arrived, guiding Fíli’s horse to stand beside him.

“Fíli! Freye!” Kíli shouted as he caught sight of them. He hurried to the side of the horse with Bilbo following close behind. Dwalin stepped up beside the horse as well, offering his arms to the injured lass. Bifur took her things from Elladan with a nod and handed them off to Bofur.

“We found them under attack by an orc pack, I suspect the same ones you were fleeing from.” Elrond turned to Thorin. “Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, welcome to Rivendell. You have your grandfather’s bearing. It has been some time since I have seen the royalty of Erebor in my halls. You are welcome here. I look forward to rekindling the association I once had with your grandfather when he was in his better days.”

“I do not know of you, elf.”

“I suspect you wouldn’t. You were not born when Thrór and I visited each other. I am Lord Elrond of Rivendell. I welcome your company into my home. I will see to it you are given the best rooms and I insist you join me for supper tonight, your whole company. I offer you a restocking of supplies as well as rest from your hard journey. Your injured will be seen to by our healers if you wish. Miss Freye will heal faster with some of our magic, though I invite your healer to accompany her as well as any others you wish.”

Bifur said something in Khuzdul. Bofur cleared his throat. “He said that he’ll help Fíli take Freye to your healer. Óin can monitor her health as she walks.”

“I’ll take care of her pack,” Brynye said taking the pack from Bofur.

“Mistress Brynye, it is good to see you in my halls once more and in the company of Gandalf again, no less.”

“I need to talk to you about that necklace I’m making for your daughter later. For now, I’d appreciate it if we would all stop talking and had Freye taken to the healer.”

“Agreed,” Thorin said. Elrond agreed as well and instructed Lindir to show the group to the healing halls while Elladan took the rest to the residence hall built more for the likes of hobbit and dwarf kind.

The healing halls were blessedly close, but it still took Fíli and Bifur to help Freye walk. Óin told the elf in charge of healing about the origin of the wound. The elfish healer had Freye remove her blood-soaked pants and sent an assistant to find pants suitable for the dwarrowdam. He took to healing her quickly, a spell leaving his mouth as he cleaned and mended the wound. The color of the skin around it looked healthier after his actions. He bound the wound firmly and told her it would be likely a week before she was up and running like a proper dwarf.

The elf then turned to Bifur, whose axe was the most glaring thing about him.

“Not recent but affecting your speech, correct?” the elf asked. Bifur watched him as he approached. The elf smiled before tugging the axe out with quick precision and putting a cloth over the gaping, scarred wound.

“Your grandfather was a goblin!” Bifur barked. He then realized what he had said, in Westron no less. Óin and Fíli stared in disbelief. “Westron, oh I haven’t spoken it in years.” He beamed at the sound of his own voice.

“You are welcome,” the elf said. “You may still act a bit as you did but now you can at least talk freely. Let me put a salve in this and bandage it. Most of it is scarred but the deepest will need help healing properly.” Bifur gave a nod and obeyed the elf long enough to be treated. By that time, the assistant had returned with a skirt for Freye, explaining that pants were being modified for her as they spoke and it would really be best if everyone took a bath before dinner. The road had been hard on them, the elf insisted.

“Freye.” She looked up at Bifur as she sat on the bed, allowing a pain tonic to settle in her stomach before she got up. The healer was getting her a crutch to use from another room. “May I see your beads?” He pointed to the ones around her neck.

“Bifur,” Fíli started to say.

“I heard Thorin talking to Bofur about Broadbeams from Moria. I knew many of my brethren; I may know the mark of your great-grandfather. May I?”

Freye hesitated before she took the necklace off. She handed the necklace to him with the two family beads first. He inspected the beads for a long time before handing them back to her.

“Iraknana’,” he murmured. “I know these marks.”

“Did you just say,” Fíli started to ask but was interrupted by Bofur and Thorin walking in.

Bofur called to his cousin, “Oi, Bifur, need your help with Bombur. He’s trying to convince Lord Elrond to let him take over the kitchens.” The elfish healer returned and handed Freye the crutch. She thanked him absentmindedly as she stared at Bifur. He extended a hand and she took it with wide eyes. He put his forehead to hers. “Iraknana’ welcome to the family.”

“Bif?” Bofur asked.

“Freye is an Ur,” Bifur told his cousin. He touched the two beads hanging from the necklace in his youngest cousin's hand. Bofur leaned forward and cupped the beads in his hand after Freye gave a nod. The miner was stunned to silence at the sigils.

“Those are Uncle Fifur and Aunt Isolde’s beads. They’ve been lost since their death.” Bofur looked up at his new-found cousin. “Your grandmother gave them to you?” Freye nodded. “Oh yes, I remember. The baby, Adad always told me about the baby, little Brynye. He always worried about her. As uncommon as the name is, I thought it was just a coincidence. Oh, the letter. I have to tell Brynye the letter was all but destroyed in a sudden downpour when the Rangers brought the bodies home. We didn’t know where she was. We didn’t know about you.” He moved forward, bringing his head gently against Freye’s. “We have lost years to make up, Little Cousin.”

“I have a family,” she whispered.

“If you three would part for a moment, we should be joining the others at the feast. I do not think you will have time to bathe beforehand,” Thorin commented. “And you can break the news to the rest of the Company.”

“Yes, yes. Then, after baths tonight, we’re putting in your family braids,” Bofur insisted. “Let’s go. We have to tell Brynye and Bombur.”

Bofur did not stop talking as they walked, the dwarrows slowing down enough for Freye to keep up.

“Brynye! Bombur! We have news,” Bofur declared as they entered the terrace. Gandalf and Elrond looked over at them curiously. The two dwarves joined the group, Thorin dragging Fíli away to give the family a moment. “Do you want to tell them?” Bofur asked Freye.

“I know who I am. I am Freye, daughter of Frye, son of Brynye, daughter of Fifur and Isolde. I am an Ur.” Bombur’s eyes widened and he was suddenly hugging Freye tight. She yelped slightly but laughed as she was hugged.

“Fifur and Isolde were our aunt and uncle,” Bifur told Brynye. “They had one child, Brynye. They were killed while travelling toward Ered Luin. The baby was never found, the letter left destroyed by rain.”

“We couldn’t find you,” Bofur whispered. He reached toward Brynye. “Oh Cousin, we wanted you home.”

The older dwarrowdam began to weep. She put her forehead against Bofur’s and held him tight. Bifur and Bombur joined them, Bilbo sidling up next to Freye to find out what was happening. The dwarrows split apart and Bofur turned to Bilbo.

“That makes him a cousin then! Welcome to the family, Cousin Bilbo,” Bofur declared.

“Saved you a seat,” Fíli told Freye as they all approached the tables. Thorin went to join Gandalf and Elrond, taking Brynye with him. Brynye took to inspecting a gem that Elrond handed over.

“Thank you Fíli. Could you help me sit? Leg’s a bit stiff.” He nodded and helped her sit down. Bilbo sat on the other side of Fíli, Freye having sat at the end of one of the tables.

At the main table, Elrond examined the weapons that Gandalf and Thorin had brought.

“Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver. A famous blade. Forged by the high elves of the west, my kin. May it serve you well,” Elrond said handing the blade back to Thorin. Thorin nodded his head in thanks, glad to have his weapon back. “This is Glamdring, the Foe-Hammer, sword of the king of Gondolin. The swords were made for the goblin wars of the first age.”

“I suspect Bilbo has the accompanying blade to Orcrist,” Brynye commented. “Designs are similar enough. I believe it is the backup blade to Orcrist or forged by the same smith at the very least.”

“Master Baggins,” Lord Elrond called out. The hobbit looked over at the elf. “May I see your blade?” Bilbo looked to Freye who gave a nod. He went over to the high table and handed the elf the blade. “Yes, I do believe you are right, Mistress Brynye. The same makers mark is on both. Glamdring was forged by a different smith than the one to forge Orcrist and this sword. I do not know its name, but I do feel I know the blade. Ecthelion was the last known bearer of Orcrist. He had a long knife he carried on his person as well but I seem to recall he gifted it to a fellow fighter, a rather short fighter but strong willed. History does not tell of who it was. These blades were all lost at the same time. Thank you, Master Baggins. I shalt keep you from your food any longer.” He handed the blade back and Bilbo returned to his table. “How did you come by these?” Elrond asked Gandalf.

“We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road a few days before we were ambushed by orcs. There were others there, but none as grand as these.”

“And what were you doing on the Great East Road?” Elrond inquired.

“They go to see kin. I needed words with you,” Brynye answered before either Gandalf or Thorin could. “It has been several decades since Dáin and Thorin have met. My granddaughter is accompanying them as an apprentice to Master Óin and Master Dwalin. She may be a master blacksmith, but she has a talent with herbs and fighting as well. It was the perfect opportunity for me to send her off for a time. My cousin Bilbo has finally decided to take after his mother. You remember Belladonna, do you not? When Freye chose to go, well, Bilbo decided to accompany them. Is not that right, Thorin?”

“You are right. It seems that Master Baggins and Miss Took are a pair. Where one goes, the other follows. If you’ll excuse me, I desire a smoke.” Thorin stood up and left the trio at the table.

“Quite rude of him,” Brynye muttered. “I think Fíli and Kíli put rocks in his bedroll last night. Excuse him, Lord Elrond.”

“Oh, that’s quite all right, I understand how brothers can be. Elladan and Elrohir can be quite the mischief makers themselves when they choose to be.” Brynye smiled and excused herself to check on Freye. “Fourteen dwarrows, a half-breed, and a halfling. Strange travelling companions Gandalf.”

“These are the descendants of the House of Durin. They’re noble, decent folk.” Even as Gandalf spoke, Nori was slipping a glass into his jacket. Freye picked up her knife and pointed it at him. He put it back. Bombur, meanwhile, was busy stuffing his face with the food that, for once, he did not have to cook. “And their surprisingly cultured.” Bilbo and Freye exchanged a look at Gandalf’s blatant lie. Brynye swatted the two of them on the back of the head. “They’ve got a deep love of the arts.”

“Change the tune why don’t you?” Nori said to one of the elves playing the harp. “I feel like I’m at a funeral.”

“Nori be kind. Just because they have different music does not mean you can be so brash,” Brynye said. “Forgive him, Mistress Elf.”

“All right lads, there’s only one thing for it,” Bofur declared as he jumped up onto his seat.

“Oh Mahal, he’s going to sing,” Freye groaned.

“Come on dearie. Let’s get you to the baths before these hooligans follow. Bilbo?” Brynye asked as she helped her granddaughter up and they waved goodbye to Elrond. Bilbo waved them off as Bofur began to sing. Soon the food would be flying and Freye did not want to deal with more mess to wash off. Brynye helped her along to the hall, spotting Thorin leaned up against a pillar with a drink and smoke. “Thorin, control the lads before they get us thrown out.”

“It’s an honest bit of fun.”

“How would you feel if elves came to Ered Luin and threw a party at the dinner table?” Thorin considered that a moment before going to deal with the Company and apologize to Lord Elrond.

“How do you do that?” Freye asked her grandmother.

“I’m older than him and he knows it. With all we’ve been through, he knows to consider my words, otherwise Dís will find out. I think I’ll write her either way over this debacle.” Freye giggled and followed her grandmother into their shared bedchambers.

The elves had both private and communal baths. While Freye and Brynye could take turns at their private bath, it made more sense to go to the communal baths where Brynye could watch her granddaughter. They brought fresh clothes with them, supplied by Lindir from Brynye’s previous stays in Rivendell, and good soaps, the gifts of Elladan and Elrohir who were trying to contain some of the chaos.

“I’ll bandage your wound later,” Brynye said as she helped Freye into the baths. The bandage on her leg was thick and the outer most layers coated in a water repellent to allow a good bath. They enjoyed the heat, taking their time unravelling their braids and washing their hair.

“Looks like the lasses beat us to the water,” a voice said behind them. The two glanced over their shoulders to see about half of the Company there. Bofur stepped down into the water and began undoing his braids. Fíli and Kíli both blushed a bit as they got in the water, having never been undressed in front of the dwarrowdams before. The last dwarrowdams they had bathed with had been family, their mother and Glóin's wife. The princes had avoided the more communal baths in Ered Luin, favoring the family communal baths that the line of Durin had. Balin settled into the water by Brynye, bringing up old times.

“Oh, dear me.” Freye turned to see Bilbo standing in the doorway with Bifur and Dwalin behind him.

“Come on Cousin,” Freye called. “I promise it’s not that bad.”

“At least you’ve been around dwarves in the buff before,” Bilbo said approaching.

“The term is dwarrows,” Freye corrected. “I know that Thorin still calls you halfling, but that is no reason to continue using the wrong term for dwarrows. Perhaps if you use dwarrows, Thorin will stop calling you a halfling. Now, come on. You’ve got the same equipment as all of them.”

“Not helping.”

“Then will this?” Bifur snatched the robe off Bilbo while Dwalin tossed the hobbit into the water. While the water was not deep for elves, it was still over Bilbo’s head in the spot Dwalin had tossed him. Freye moved quicker than her injury should have allowed and snagged her cousin from the bottom of the pool. She brought him up, bracing him against her chest as he gasped for air.

“You all right Cousin?” she asked.

“If my lungs weren’t burning,” he said coughing. She swam back to the shallower side of the pool and sat him on the hidden ledge. She turned to Dwalin, getting out of the water and doing her best limping march across the tile at him.

“Most hobbits cannot swim!” She punched him in the arm before reentering the pool. She huffed and took to helping Bilbo with his hair.

“How was I supposed to know?” Dwalin asked Nori.

“You ask,” Brynye replied. The taller dwarf huffed before joining the Company in the water. Thorin eventually joined them as well.

“Can we put the family braids in?” Bofur asked after the Company had gotten out of the water and put on their clothes. He glanced at Bilbo. “Honorary one for our hobbit cousin as well.”

“Meet us back at our chambers,” Brynye replied. “I need to change the bandage for Freye.” The cousins nodded and went to get their hair care products. Bilbo joined Brynye and Freye in their room and combed his hair. He was still a bit miffed over the water incident.

The three cousins arrived shortly after the bandage was changed. Bombur, who had the greatest experience braiding short hair thanks to his many children, put the simple braid in Bilbo’s hair and put one of his Ur beads into his hair. Bofur taught Brynye the braid and put the bead that Brynye had crafted to match her parents’ bead into her hair. Bifur helped Freye with hers, teaching her the braid.

"Can you tell us about Fifur and Isolde?" Freye asked. She looked at her grandmother who looked interested as well.

"I'll tell you what I know," Bifur replied. "The Ur family is a different sort. Themur and Dres had three children. Their first, Fifur, was born their first year of marriage by the blessing of Mahal. It seemed for many decades that he would be an only child, until a blessing graced them and Dres bore two more sons. The first was Franur, my father, and then Lagur, Bofur and Bombur's father. Fifur was already of age when his brothers were born.

"Themur had been trading with the caravans for years, but after a particularly nasty winter, he lost part of his leg to frostbite. Fifur took his place on the caravans, taking his father's wares to sell and making his own. He was a toy maker you see. It was his first caravan when he met Isolde. My father, Franur, had been begging Fifur not to leave," Bifur explained. "Isolde came over and swept him into his arms and struck up a conversation."

"Uncle Franur used to say that Isolde was the most beautiful dwarowdam he'd ever seen," Bofur piped up. "Dark hair, full and long, with few braids. Eyes as blue as the Durin blue of Erebor. He thought he was an angel or something, couldn't believe she was a dwarf."

"Anyway," Bifur continued after shooting Bofur a look, "Isolde became Fifur's companion on the caravans. She worked as a guard and within the year she was riding protection detail on Fifur's wagon almost exclusively. She even taught him how to wield his blade, the same sword you carry Freye. That was Themur's originally, passed down to Fifur. We never knew what happened to the blade after the attack."

"Ma-Ta said my mother gave it to her and the beads," Brynye told him. "She was too weak for many words."

"If a dwarf that knew the Urs had seen the blade, they would have been able to take you home," Bifur told her. "Just bad luck that none recognized it." He cleared his throat and continued. "They had been travelling together for a while and were as close to being courting as could be. Dres always said Isolde was hesitant, something about her family line. All Fifur knew was that she was from Erebor originally and had family that was well known. Apparently there were awkward instances with the royal messenger's guards who would address her as Lady Isolde. My da always said she was sadder when she spoke of her family.

"It was after Lagur was born that Dres finally reasoned with her. All Da knew was that Isolde was the daughter of a consort to someone in Erebor, one that had been orphaned and had no line to claim after the Longbeards left the Grey Mountains. They had Brynye two years later in Bree in fact! They were on the way to Ered Luin when you were born," Bifur told his cousin.

"How old was I when...when I was orphaned?" Brynye asked.

"Just shy of a year," Bifur replied. "They were coming back from the winter trade routes, supplies from the south on the wagons. They were to stop in the Shire for a festival before continuing on to the mountains. They were set upon by Men, the entire caravan wiped out. The only ones to survive were Brynye and two guards who had gone for Rangers after finding evidence of dangers of the road. The Rangers and the two guards brought the whole caravan back to the mountains with the help of some hired hands from Bree. It was then that Brynye's absence was noted along with the sword and beads. The letter had been placed with Fifur and Isolde's things but a storm soaked the wagons and destroyed it."

"They still looked," Bofur hurriedly told Brynye when he saw her grow sad. "Went to Bree and asked if an orphaned dwarfling had been found. The Rangers kept an eye out in the slave markets to the south, unsure if the Men that had attacked were associated with them. Every caravan that came in was asked about you for years."

"The questions died off after Themur and Dres died. My da was trying to raise Lagur alone," Bifur explained.

"I understand," Brynye insisted. "All these years, I was so close to my family and never knew."

Bifur walked over to the older dwarrowdam and hugged her tight. Bofur and Bilbo leaned into Freye while Bombur declared he was going to find ale for them to share. They stayed up for a time, talking of their lives, before all turning in. For Freye, it was the first decent sleep had in weeks.


	3. 6-1-2941; Rivendell

The Company had settled in for their stay at Rivendell. Lord Elrond had looked at Thorin’s map, under the guise of discovering it while reading an old tome. He determined that the moon runes were not yet able to be read. The next date that he could read them was twenty-one days after their arrival. They had no choice but to wait. This did give the Company time to mend tears, practice with their weapons, and heal.

Freye had asked Lord Elrond if he could send letters back to the Shire for them. After he confirmed that he would, and gladly, Freye took to the quill to write for both herself and Bilbo. She planned to write to Hamfast, Drogo, and Fortinbras II. She started with Hamfast.

> **Hamfast,**
> 
> **I hope this letter reaches you well. Bilbo is in good health. He is slowly finding his place in the Company. Three of the Company have adopted him as family thanks to the revelation of my grandmother’s parentage. So worry not about his disposition, he’s making friends.**
> 
> **Grandmother Brynye will be back to the Shire before the end of summer. She is currently with us. She needed to visit Rivendell and went with us for the safety of numbers. One of the elves is escorting her back by the sounds of it. Something about getting seeds from a Shire plant. Evidently their last flower, given by old Belladonna Baggins, passed this winter and never sprouted. It has distressed the elf in charge of the plant greatly. I gave him your name. Hopefully you can help him find the flower and collect a few seeds. Bilbo grants permission.**
> 
> **Speaking of my cousin, he did wish for you to know he is sorry for his abrupt departure. He promises a bonus to you and your master upon his return. He also asks that you keep Lobelia as far from Bag End as possible. He said if you have to use a shovel to chase her off that’s fine. You can tell everyone you were under the orders of Mad Baggins.**
> 
> **If you wish to send a letter back, we will be Rivendell for a few more weeks but certainly not long enough for your response to reach us. However, I think if you sent it to Rivendell, Lord Elrond might be able to pass it on to us via his messengers.**
> 
> **  
> Until next time,  
>  Freye Took **

 

She addressed her next letter to Drogo. She hoped the young Baggins was doing well with tending to the house.

> **  
> Drogo Baggins,**
> 
> **Hello Cousin. Sorry to have dropped such a task on you. Bilbo is even more sorry. He promises to make it up to you, something about a courting gift he would gift you for your own sweetheart. I never knew you had a thing for Miss Primula Brandybuck but I cannot say I am surprised. Just remember lad, she still has another year before she’s matured.**
> 
> **Bilbo and I are well. Bilbo is becoming fast friends with several of the Company. His knowledge of leaves saved the youngest lad from itching himself to death after falling into a patch of poison oak. Poor lad. Their healer didn’t know that species but Ole Bilbo saved the day.**
> 
> **We are in Rivendell for a spell. We encountered some trouble a little earlier in our trip and are refreshing our supplies and resting. Some of the elves have gone out looking for our lost ponies but we do not have much hope there. Bilbo was happy to be on his feet again after the ponies were lost. He doesn’t enjoy them, not that I can blame him. One of the lads always has to given him a boost. I think they gave him one of the taller ponies on purpose.**
> 
> **Grandmother Brynye will be returning to the Shire to help tend to Bag End by the end of the summer. Bilbo hopes you have been taking care of it for him. He invites both you and Brynye to remain in Bag End to tend to it in his absence. Lobelia was staking out the place on our last night in the Shire. I think with her upcoming marriage into the Sackville-Baggins she may try to weasel the deed for Bag End. If it comes down to it, I left a nice short sword in my guest room. It’s under the mattress. I’m sure it will do wonders to frighten her away.**
> 
> **Be safe Cousin. Oh, an elf may stop by when Brynye arrives as well. He is searching for seeds to a plant that Belladonna once gifted the elves in Rivendell. His flower died, and he is rather upset. There were no seeds from last year evidently.**
> 
> **While we will be Rivendell for a few more weeks, it will certainly not long enough for any response to reach us. That being said, I think Lord Elrond of Rivendell might be able to pass it on to us via his messengers.**
> 
> **  
> Until we speak again,  
>  Freye Took **
> 
>  

The last letter was to Fortinbras. Freye had wondered whether she should make Bilbo write the letter but he was too distracted with the elfish library to write a letter.

> **  
> Thain Fortinbras Took II,**
> 
> **Hello dearest Cousin and Thain. Bilbo is well. He’s finding adventuring to be quite different than he expected but I think he’s happier than he has been in years. He had a nice riddle off with the oldest of our company the other night; it was quite the sight to see. He also taught a few of his songs and Hobbit songs to the group. They greatly enjoyed them.**
> 
> **We are in Rivendell currently for a rest. Our ponies spooked the other night and we have been left to go on foot, though Bilbo will not complain about that. He looked like he was trying to ride a log. Also, it turns out that Bilbo might have an allergy to ponies. Sneezes like crazy he does. Good thing I sent his handkerchiefs along with him or he would have regretted it.**
> 
> **I have sent letters to Hamfast and Drogo as well. Hamfast and Drogo have instructions on keeping up Bag End and keeping Lobelia far from it. Grandmother Brynye will be along before the end of summer to help tend to Bag End as well. She is currently in Rivendell on business.**
> 
> **I hope everything is well in the Shire. Any replies you wish to send should be routed through Lord Elrond of Rivendell. The elf lord has kindly agreed to see these sent and I am certain he can send along any replies to us.**
> 
> **  
> Until we speak again,  
>  Freye Took**

 

Once the letters were written, she sealed them with a wax stamp and put them in a pouch to be delivered. Lindir took the letters to one of their messengers who would leave the valley the next morning with the letters as well as some to be sent along to Ered Luin—Kíli and Fíli wanted to tell their mother they were all right while Bofur and his cousins wanted to inform their family that they had found Brynye. That family consisted of Lagur and his wife Lenis as well as Bombur's wife Cassias and their many children.

“Freye!” She turned her head as she limped down the hallway with her crutch. Fíli ran up to her. “Can I walk you to lunch? Bombur and Bilbo took over a kitchen and made some proper food for dwarrows.”

“I’d like that.” He grinned and walked beside her. They talked while they walked. Fíli asked her about her skills in the forge. He admitted that his skills were more in the way of jewelry, the fine details in intricate designs. He could, however, make knives and other blades. He also had a talent with leather. They were deep in their conversation when they arrived at the tables to eat with the Company. Kíli attempted to pull Fíli into a food war but his older brother refused to make a fool of himself. He elbowed Kíli and let out a warning growl each time while ducking his head down and blushing as Freye watched them.

Freye found it adorable. Brynye watched the two with a knowing expression and snagged Thorin to talk.

"Have you noticed your eldest nephew?" Brynye inquired. The two dwarrows sat together in the practice field Elrond had shown them, both of them sharpening their blades. "And my granddaughter?"

"You mean the way Fíli stares at her as if she hung the moon in the sky? Yes I did notice," Thorin replied. He eyed the edge of his blade and put it to the side. He leaned against the wall behind the bench he sat on. "Do you approve?"

"He reminds me of his father a bit and Frerin," Brynye replied. She finished her blade as well and leaned against the staircase behind her. "He's more mature though. I do not see an issue with their courting if they wish."

"Even though it'll likely be on the quest?"

"Bah, all the better I say. They will have something more tangible than a mountain to fight for," she replied. "She talked about him on our journey. Of the runes she embroidered into his tunic, of her feelings when they met in Bag End. She said it felt like a piece clicking into place, one she didn't know was missing."

"I've heard Fíli say much the same to Kíli. Kíli has been teasing his brother mercilessly over his love for weeks now."

"Family gifts?" Brynye inquired.

"If they have time for them," Thorin said slowly, "I would ask for a show of her skill in the smithery that I could proudly display when some lord or another complains that she is below Fíli. I have seen some of her work already and admire it. You taught her well."

"I think I could use a new hairpiece," Brynye added. "We'll let this develop as they please then?"

"Agreed. Any conditions for their courtship?"

"I do not see any I care to add," Brynye replied. "You?"

"She is a good fit," Thorin agreed. "I have no requests and a dowry is not necessary in my eyes. There will be plenty of chaperones for them. Shall I oversee the courtship? Make the decisions in the place of both of us?"

"Aye. Bilbo can also act in me stead. I will speak with him later tonight."

"Dís is going to be disappointed she didn't get to watch them fall in love," Thorin mused.

"I'll write her a letter describing all the longing looks they've been sending each other. It'll be fine." She then stood and cracked her back. "Now then, my king, how about an old fashioned sparring match? Bet I can still wrestle you to the ground in my old age."

Thorin grinned and joined her on the field. When Balin and Dwalin came down later, his cousin cheered for Brynye much to Thorin's chagrin. It was still an entertaining fight.

 

* * *

 

After lunch, Freye joined Ori and Bilbo in exploring the vast libraries of Rivendell; even Balin joined them in the libraries, pulling old texts in Khuzdul from the shelves and reading history and stories he hadn’t seen in years. Freye took a book she found interesting and went out to the terrace that emerged from the library. She found a comfortable spot leaned up against a pillar while perched on a bench and read to her heart’s content.

Footsteps interrupted her reading. She looked up to see Lord Elrond approaching while carrying several small items.

“Good afternoon, Lord Elrond.”

“Miss Took,” he greeted, “I was hoping to speak with you. May I?” He motioned to the bench beside her. She nodded and closed her book. He sat beside her and laid the items in his lap. “I hoped to speak with your privately. I know many dwarves have issues with elves, but I hope that with your grandmother’s influence, you might be more inclined to accept gifts from one.”

“Grandmother speaks highly of you and so did Belladonna. I do not have the same prejudice other dwarrows have.”

“I thought as much but was not certain.” He pulled from the pouch in his lap a small book. He handed it to her, so she could inspect it. “Your grandmother says you are apprenticing under Master Óin for healing. While I would normally give this gift to the master, I think the apprentice would appreciate it more. Especially if misfortune follows you as it already has. This book contains knowledge of herbs, tinctures, pastes, and even a few spells. It is written in Westron and has diagrams for the herbs and spells. You will likely find these can easily be performed due to your hobbit gift at healing. You are very bright with the energy of the land. Also, these pages resist water as does the ink. I have dropped it in more rivers and ponds than I can count and it still legible.”

“These are beautiful,” she said looking at the diagrams of leaves.

“I thought so as well. This,” he said handing her a pouch that was concealed inside the one he carried, “holds medicinal herbs. Each one is in sealed wax paper and ready for travel. I’ve had them marked in Westron, Sindarin, and Khuzdul.” She looked at the herbs, recognizing some but not others. There were a few rare herbs, ones that could save a life on the battle field. There were also a few that made powerful sleeping draughts or potions to disorient an opponent. “I’ve marked the pages in the book where the rarer herbs are concerned.”

“Thank you. Lord Elrond, this is too much to gift.”

“No, it is not. And this is the last of the gifts.” He held out a vial to her. It was made of a crystal that was nearly impossible to destroy without intense heat and pressure at the same time. It was capped by the same crystal and a thick wax seal held the cap in place. It was strung in a hardened leather holster with strips for straps cut in. The straps were long and adjustable, perfect for concealing the vial under her clothes. “You must be very careful of this.”

“Then why such a dangerous gift?”

“I fear you will need it. I am not as foolish as to think that your journey is only to visit Lord Dáin of the Iron Hills. Master Óin is not the only one that can read the signs. Your road will be dangerous, young one.” He placed it in her hand and closed her fingers around it. “One drop in a drink will kill Man, Dwarf, Elf, or Hobbit within a day. There is enough here to douse an arrow head twice over. It needs contact with a body fluid to work. Simply getting it on your skin will not kill you, though you may become ill. Most importantly, one arrowhead covered in this will kill an Orc in minutes. Use it wisely.”

“Thank you but why do you gift me such powerful items?” She looked up at him as he placed the pouch and the book inside the larger pouch and set it on her lap.

“I have a daughter, younger than Elladan and Elrohir, my beautiful Arwen.” Elrond frowned as his thoughts concentrated on his darling daughter. “My line has a curse, the ability to choose mortality or immortality. I chose immortality, to be an elf in all things. My sons will likely choose the same. My Arwen? I fear she will not choose immortality. She cares for mortals far more than any elf I know. You must remember, young one, you are not the first of mixed blood to ever be born.”

Indeed, she did know that. She knew that he was Elrond Half-Elven. She knew his brother, Elros, had chosen to be mortal. She knew of the Dúnedain. Still, to be half elf would be vastly different from half dwarf.

“You remind me of Arwen, strong and independent, searching for a place in this world, one where those with mixed blood can be welcomed as their own person. It is a struggle, one that I can see in your eyes clearly, young one.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “If you ever find yourself without home again, my young friend, my home is open to you always. Though I believe the Line of Durin has made it clear that yours will join them in Erebor. Is there something between your grandmother and Master Balin? Do I need to speak on her behalf to him, as a concerned old friend?”

“Please don’t make me think of that,” Freye groaned. “She’s been admiring his hair the whole trip, says it looks better white. I am starting to believe she had a One in the hobbits and a One in the dwarrows, he just had to get older first.”

“Stranger things have happened. I shall leave you be. Good luck.” Elrond departed with a smile on his lips. Freye watched him leave and then took to reading her new book and memorizing the plants in her pouch. There were several pieces of wax paper there to be used later as well.

She struggled the most over the spells, given in Sindarin and translated to Westron so she could understand and with a step-by-step pronunciation guide. Bilbo had a talent for languages, already knew a little Sindarin, but Freye had not picked it up from Belladonna when she was visiting.

“Miss Took?” She looked up to see Lindir standing in the terrace entryway. “Is something the matter?”

“I am trying to learn Sindarin healing spells. Lord Elrond gave me a gift,” she explained and held up the book.

“May I be of assistance then?” Freye hesitated before nodding. He sat beside her and looked at the page. He slowly went through each word, teaching her the sounds. She started to pick it up with his help. It was several hours later that she was able to say each spell well enough for it to work. He also gave her instructions on how to use them in an emergency but warned her that it would likely tax her more than it would an elf.

“Freye?” The pair looked up to see Fíli standing in the terrace. “Bilbo sent me when you didn’t show up for dinner.”

“It’s that late already. Oh my.” She stood up, storing her things and thanking Lindir. He gave her a smile and watched her leave with Fíli. He glanced at Lindir with a small mark of jealousy. “Fíli?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you looking at him like he stole your favorite toy and is threatening to keep it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Freye stopped walking and crossed her arms. Fíli glanced at her crutch, barely helping her stand with how she was positioned. “Dinner, Freye.”

“I’m not moving until you tell me what is bothering you.” They stared at each other for a long moment. He huffed and sat down on a nearby bench. She joined him.

“I find I rather enjoy your company and that elf seems to enjoy your company as well. I do not want to lose you to any other.”

“Fíli are you jealous?” He didn’t answer. “Oh Mahal. Fíli he was teaching me Sindarin so I could use these healing spells.” She pulled out the book and showed him the text. “Lord Elrond gifted it to me. He thought Óin might be offended if he was given more healing texts, but the apprentice of Óin, well I would more likely accept it. I was struggling with the pronunciation. My tongue is meant to speak Khuzdul, not Sindarin.”

“Oh.” He blushed a bit and cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m touched that you think so much of me to be jealous.” She smiled at the blond prince. “I think it’s rather sweet.” She gave him a peck on the cheek before hurrying along to dinner. Fíli sat there stunned for a moment before quickly following her.


	4. 6-10-2941; Rivendell

Freye was cleared to fight on the ninth day of their stay in Rivendell. Almost immediately, she joined the rest of the Company in the training yards that had been allocated for them. Elladan and Elrohir had taken to sparring with several of the Company, glad for a change of pace in their normal routines.

Today, Freye watched as Dwalin sparred against Kíli and Fíli. She had had archery practice with Kíli earlier and Dwalin promised to help her with her axe skills after supper. Nori and Fíli had fought that morning on who was going to work with her with knives for the day, leading to Bilbo and Freye laughing at the breakfast table. For now, she sat beside the training area with a young boy that was a resident of Rivendell, Estel.

The boy was not an elf, or at least not a full blooded one from what she could tell. He had spotted the group in the training yard one morning, while Freye was still mending but insisting on watching, and had snuck over to watch. Freye had caught him by his collar and brought him up to the bench beside him and encouraged him to watch. When Lord Elrond came looking for his young charge several hours later, he smiled as he watched Freye point out the tricks that the others were doing. He had encouraged them to be friends. Young Estel was happy to learn from Freye and even introduced her to his mother.

“Freye.” She glanced up from where she had been explaining the art of spinning knives to Estel to see Thorin ready to spar and holding Orcrist. Dwalin, Kíli, and Fíli collapsed on nearby benches to breathe for a few moments. Thorin asked, “Do you care to test your skills?”

“It would be my pleasure, my king.” She patted Estel on his shoulder. “Excuse me, Estel.” The boy nodded and eagerly watched as Freye picked up her sword and spun it in her hand before settling into her stance. Thorin noted her footing before moving to strike.

The rest of the Company stopped their activities around the clearing to watch the pair exchange blows. Thorin was clearly more experienced but Freye had been taught by more than just dwarrows. Like her grandmother before her, she used a mix of techniques from Hobbits, Men, Dwarrows, and even a few bits of Elf thrown in for good measure. Brynye had taught her granddaughter all she knew in how to fight.

“Remind you of anyone?” Balin asked Brynye from where she sat.

“Seems like just yesterday Thorin and I were the ones battling,” the dwarrowdam mused. “He’s a little rusty in a fight against my line I think, even after our spar the other day.”

“Still say you should have been a trainer,” Dwalin commented as he leaned against his axe. Brynye laughed kindheartedly and watched closer. “She’s close to mastery, at least in the weapons she specializes in.”

“Aye, but she had not a proper master to teach her. I never obtained mine you will recall,” Brynye said. “I told Elrond you were one of her masters on the quest.”

“Oh, and who was the other?”

“Óin. She’s got the talent for herbs.” Dwalin snorted and pointed out to Glóin something she was doing.

“Flows better than Amad,” Kíli commented to Fíli. The blond hummed and watched as she moved across the clearing. Brynye giggled and told everyone to watch closely as she saw Freye shift her hands. Her sword flew up in the air and she grasped her two daggers, bringing them out and grasping her sword with one hand to slide it in its sheath before blocking Thorin with one dagger and attacking with the other. “How did she do that?”

“I don’t know but I want her to teach me to do it,” Fíli mumbled. He had his head in his palm, staring at her with interest. Brynye reached over and cuffed him on the back of the head. He looked up at her startled.

“Family gift first, lad,” the dwarrowdam said. Fíli swallowed nervously. “I could use a nice hairpiece, something to pin my hair back.”

“Uh, yes ma’am.” Balin was chuckling on the other side of Brynye.

Thorin called the match to an end when he saw how Freye had taken to favoring one leg. He slid his blade into its sheath and approached her quickly as she did the same.

“Your leg, it aches?”

“Nothing I cannot handle. I still had some fight left.”

“You may have but you do not want to over work it this early. Go rest for a time. Tomorrow we will go again.”

“Yes, my king.” The way she said king reminded him of how she called him nu'adad. It was clear she was not ready to share the piece of information yet but her tone told it all to him. He chuckled and patted her on the shoulder.

“Fíli, Kíli, help Freye back to her room. She needs to put her leg up for a while.”

“Only if you train Bilbo,” Kíli called back. Bilbo, who was sitting on the other side of Balin, looked up stunned. “Oh come on Bilbo. You said you were going to practice with someone today, but you haven’t even drawn your sword. Uncle can train you how to use that dagger of yours.”

“He’s quite right, Master Baggins,” Thorin said clearing his throat. There was a touch of a blush on his cheeks. “Come. Nori, may I have one of your long daggers?” The thief nodded and tossed him a sheathed one.

Fíli took Freye’s arm and put it over his shoulder. She smiled at him and leaned against his shoulder as they climbed the stairs toward the main halls. Little Estel was scampering along behind them and suggesting a snack. Kíli agreed with the young one and they ran ahead to the kitchens to scrounge something up. Fíli helped Freye to one of the terraces they had taken over near the guest wing. He helped her sit down and sat beside her.

“Thank you Fíli.”

“My pleasure.” He glanced at her nervously. She chuckled and leaned against him. His arm came up around her and she sighed. She ended up dozing off on his shoulder. Estel complained when they returned but Kíli shushed the boy and took him off to eat their snack on another terrace. Fíli simply held the young dwarrowdam and stroked the side of her face with the tips of his fingers. Tomorrow he would ask Lord Elrond if he might work in the forge for a time and trade some coin for some decent jewelry metal. The lord would gift him the metal with a knowing look on his face.

  
  



	5. 6.20.2941; Rivendell

The Company was uneasy. Tonight was the night that Lord Elrond would be able to read the map for them. They planned to leave in the next day or two but an unexpected arrival had them all on edge. Bilbo, Bofur, and Brynye had come across new arrivals in Rivendell, an elf in all white and a man similarly dressed. When it was brought up to Gandalf, he placed them as Lady Galadriel and Saruman the White.

“We will meet with Lord Elrond,” Thorin said grabbing Balin and Bilbo. “The rest of you, pack the bags and get them to the path leading out of here. We’ll meet you there.”

“I’ve got Bilbo’s bag,” Freye offered.

“I’ll carry Thorin’s and Balin’s to the path before I return here,” Brynye said. She grabbed Bilbo and hugged him firmly. “Be safe my dear cousin.”

Estel came to Freye’s chambers as she finished packing her things. He was carrying a basket of food, most made for hard travel.

“Mother saw Lady Galadriel this afternoon. Mother told me to bring you this. She felt you would be leaving tonight before the White Council could interfere. Why must you go in secret?” He crossed over to her, looking up at her with his big wide eyes.

“Lord Elrond has made no attempts to stop us but others might. What we go to do, it could be dangerous.” She put her hands on Estel’s shoulders. “But do not worry. I promise this will not be the last time I see you.” She put her hand to his face. “Be a good lad until I see you next?”

“I promise.”

“Good. I want you to have something.” She took a small sheath out of her sleeve. There were three knives inside the sheath, each thin and small enough for a grown Man to simply conceal in their hand if need be. She wrapped Estel’s hand around the sheath. “Learn to use those. They are easy to conceal. You may need them one day.”

“Thank you. Be safe, Miss Freye.”

“Oh lad, just call me Freye.” She gathered him in a hug and kissed his cheek. “Now run along.” He nodded and scampered off. She took her pack and the basket to the rest of the dwarrows. Dwalin raised an eyebrow at the sight of the basket.

“Estel’s mother saw Galadriel. It seems she knew we would be leaving soon after. There’s lembas in here and some other long lasting foods. I figured if we split up between the packs we would be better off.”

“Remind me to thank her if we ever see her again,” Dwalin said.

“I’ll do it for you,” Brynye offered. She turned around, her new hair piece keeping her hair in line.

They split up the food quickly before heading for the trail. It was well past midnight when Thorin, Balin, and Bilbo appeared led by an elf of all things. It was one of Lord Elrond’s sons, Elladan if Freye was correct. He handed a smaller bag of food to Bombur.

“What? I may love my grandmother but you need to leave before Saruman tries to interfere,” Elladan said. “Good luck. My brother or I might send a bird to you if we have any news or letters from the west.”

“Thank you,” Thorin said. Elladan smiled and walked off.

“Guess elves aren’t that bad after all,” Bofur commented. Glóin hit him with the blunt side of his axe.

They walked hard that night and well into the day. Thorin wanted them to reach the foothills of the Misty Mountain by nightfall. They managed it by mid afternoon.

Bilbo and Bombur started supper, scavenging supplies from the forest in an attempt to keep away from their current supplies. Freye, after receiving the assignment of third watch, read her book until supper and then took to watching the antics of the Company. Near dark, she set up her bedroll next to a log and pulled her travelling cloak tight around her. Fíli put his own bedroll beside hers and sat down on it, watching as his brother pelted Ori with an apple core and the young scribe tackled him in return.

“Kíli will wake us for our shift,” Fíli told her.

“You two always work the same shift.”

“Uncle is still upset about the ponies. Says we should work different shifts for a while. He has to do his shift with Dwalin and Ori.” Freye snorted, that was an amusing image of their fellow company. “Are you warm enough?” he asked as he laid down.

“Well enough. I didn’t think the cool weather would hit until we were farther in the mountains.”

“Breeze is coming from the mountains down to the foothills, brings the cold,” he said. He moved his whole bedroll over a little and draped his large cloak over the pair of them.

“Fíli.”

“It’ll get colder through the night. Besides, you can use me as a pillow.” He flashed her a grin. She shook her head but snuggled up against him anyway. His shoulder was definitely better than a rock. After a time, she felt his head lean against hers and one arm circle over her. His other arm came up to find her hand, twining their fingers together. She smiled and tightened her grip on his hand. She felt a shift of his mustache braids, like he was smiling.

Across the fire, Thorin exchanged a look with Balin.

“He gave the family gift already,” Balin whispered.

“Aye. Has she accepted his courtship?”

“He’s still working on something for her. He brought some leather with him and a few gems and bits of metal left from his family gift. He doesn’t know what to make her yet.”

“He’ll figure it out soon.” Balin nodded in agreement and took to nursing his pipe once more.

  
  



	6. 7.6.2941; The Misty Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goblin Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: So this was the chapter I didn't know how to rate. So just be warned, yah? 
> 
> Also, I think the goblins would have a grudge against Hobbits. I saw a story once, don't remember who wrote it or what it was since it's been a few months, where Bilbo wasn't separated from them and the Goblin King tortured him because of Bullroarer Took. That's what inspired this little bit in a way. It wasn't originally written like this either, it got changed when I was editing.

The rain came down in droves as they followed the thin path along the mountainside. Thorin had decided to take one of the more dangerous routes across the Misty Mountain in an attempt to make up for lost time in Rivendell. The downside to this was the path was barely wide enough for a person to walk on without gear, let alone carrying a hundred pounds of equipment. It was turning into a disaster waiting to happen.

The thunder from the storm deafened the group as they pushed forward, desperate to find a cave to rest for the night. Freye walked behind Fíli, her hood pulled high. Fíli had reached a hand back several times to check on her. She always squeezed his hand before he let go. Her attention was also on Bilbo, who was walking between Bofur and Dwalin. She barely kept back the scream when he slipped and almost fell off the mountain, Bofur and Dwalin quickly grabbing him and holding him back. She was ready to tie a line to her cousin if it meant that he wouldn’t fall from the mountain.

“Look out!” Dwalin screamed. They all looked up to see a chunk of the mountain flying through the air and crashing into the mountainside above their heads. The mountain on the other side was moving, a great stone giant emerging in the darkness.

“This is no thunder storm! It’s a thunder battle! Look!” Balin shouted. Fíli did not care to watch the stone giants. He turned in a way that he could grab Freye and held her against the cliff face with all his might. She tucked her head under his as small bits of debris rained down on them.

“Well bless me! The legends are true. Giants, stone giants!” Bofur yelled over the rain and thunder. Another rock hurtled across the chasm but struck a giant emerging from behind them.

When the mountain they were on started to move, Freye and Fíli looked toward Kíli, fears deep set in their eyes.

“Kíli, grab my hand!” Fíli ordered too late. Kíli was pulled away, heartbreak on his face. Fíli looked between his brother and Freye. As the mountain moved, forming another giant, they realized they were on the stone giant’s knees. One giant hit their giant, throwing it back into the mountain. The Company held tight as they crashed back into the mountain. Thorin, seeing a chance to get his half of the Company to solid ground, ordered them forward. Freye and Fíli clutched the mountain and each other, riding out the impacts and praying to the Valar that it would be over soon.

The giants fought, rocks flying every which way. Briefly, the two groups passed each other but were quickly pulled away. Then, their giant was struck hard enough to send it face first into the mountain. There was a ledge that might save the Company if they were able to survive the impact.

“Jump when we get close!” Freye called over the noise. She pulled Fíli to her and the pair jumped in unison, tumbling further than the rest and into the starting of a cave in the mountainside.

“No! Fíli!” Thorin screamed. He ran ahead of the others, reaching the group as they struggled to their feet. His relief was evident as he spotted Freye and Fíli standing together at the mouth of the cave.

“Where’s Bilbo? Where’s the hobbit?” Bofur shouted.

Thorin's heart leapt to his throat as he spun in circles looking for their wayward burglar. The piece in his chest, the one that had made itself known when Bilbo had chased after them, ached for the sight of him. Mahal, let the hobbit be all right.

Freye attempted to lunge for the edge of the mountain, intent on finding her cousin, but Fíli kept her back in fear of falling. “There!”

Bilbo was struggling to hold on to the side of the trail.

“Get him!”

Multiple dwarves lunged for him, Bofur calling for him to grab his hand before he could fall. Thorin, sensing danger, jumped down and hung to the side of the mountain while hauling Bilbo up by the scruff of his coat. The dwarf king felt that piece in his chest ease at the sight of the burglar held tight in the hands of his Company, safe from falling to his doom. When Thorin nearly fell, Dwalin and Freye caught him, their hands tight around his arms. They pulled him up to the edge and Fíli pulled Freye further back from the edge.

“I thought we lost our burglar,” Dwalin commented.

“He’s been lost ever since he left home. He should have never come. He has no place amongst us.” Thorin looked at Freye, their eyes meeting. She saw something in his eyes, a hint that said the words he spat in anger were not entirely true. He did not mean his words. It was the Trollshaws all over again. If Thorin could send Bilbo home with his nephews and Freye, he would be a happy dwarf. At least then he would know they would be safe. They would never leave though. He could see that in the way each of them walked. Bilbo had found a place in the Company. He had also carved a place in the dwarf king's heart. Thorin did not want to know what would happen without the burglar at his side. Still, he was too angry over what he almost lost to take back his words. He hoped Freye understood his true intentions. He settled for saying, “That does not extend to you, Freye.”

“Insult one hobbit, you insult both,” she replied. She straightened up and took out one of her daggers. “I’m going to inspect the cave, my king.” The way she said king was not how she had been saying it in weeks past. It was cold and angry. He would need to properly apologize to her, but for right now he was more intent on getting them out of the storm and away from the stone giants.

Freye strode into the cave, Fíli hurrying after her. They inspected the length of the cave before returning with the all clear. Thorin had the camp set up and ordered everyone to rest, with the exception of Bofur who was to take first watch.

Freye snagged her cousin’s sleeve as he went to lay down. The younger hobbit looked up at her. His eyes said it all. She shook her head and said, “Don’t leave.”

“Freye, you heard what he said." Oh how the rejection sung through his voice. She had noticed in Rivendell how Bilbo looked after the dwarf king. The way he smiled when Thorin wasn't looking. Bilbo was no longer here for the adventure. He wasn't even here for the family he had made among the dwarrows. He was here because of Thorin and the ache in his chest that beckoned him to be closer to the dwarf.

“No, don’t leave. I do not think he means those words as he said them. Besides, he hasn’t seen the amazing hobbit that you are.” She ruffled his hair affectionately. “You are just as strong as any of us. Do not doubt yourself.” He stared at her for a long moment before huffing and nodding to her. She kissed his forehead, much to his chagrin, and pointed at a spot on the ground beside Bofur. “Rest, even if you don’t sleep.” She doubted that he would sleep; she doubted she would sleep. Still, they had to rest as best they could. Freye laid down beside Fíli and Kíli, snuggling into the older one’s safe arms.

Thorin’s shout for them to rise came a few hours later. Freye slung her bag on and looked for the danger. The floor emptied out of sand. She latched onto Fíli as they dropped.

The noise was deafening, the sudden onslaught of goblins raining down on them taking advantage of their confusion. Freye fought against their painful grasp but was slammed from behind by another goblin. They hauled the Company through the tunnels. In all the confusion, Bilbo was lost and sent down deeper into the mountain after a goblin tried to snag him.

Their weapons were torn from them as well as their packs. Freye’s eyes remained locked on her things, attempting to plan how to reach them. Fíli and Kíli were doing much the same beside her. The monstrous Goblin King danced and sang before them. Freye cringed at the horrible singing and desperately desired to puke.

“Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?” the Goblin King demanded.

“Dwarves, your malevolency,” a goblin replied.

“Dwarves?!”

“Found them on the front porch.”

“Well, don’t just stand there! Search them!” The goblins did just that, grabbing roughly at the dwarrows. Several were getting too handsy with Freye, causing her to fight back in earnest and punch them. “Every crack! Every crevice!” A goblin tried to stick his hand down her pants. She headbutted him.

“Don’t you touch me!” She shoved them away, desperately fighting her way back to Fíli or one of her cousins. Bifur had nearly reached her when he was held firm by another goblin. Three of the goblins grabbed her, pinning her arms behind her and slamming a fist into her stomach.

“Freye, stop,” Thorin ordered. “You’re making it worse.”

“He tried to put his hand down my pants!”

Fíli roared and tried to reach her. He was hit by another goblin and fell back into his brother. Kíli kept a tight hold on his brother even though his own eyes spoke for death in the most painful ways imagined.

“Tell me the truth!” the Goblin King demanded. “Why are you here? And why do you have a female?” His eyes watched Freye intensely. She growled. If there was one thing her mixed blood did, it was label her as a female quite clearly to those that saw her. If she changed her appearance a bit more, she might pass for a male hobbit of unusually tall stature, but among the dwarrows, she was clearly a female.

Óin and Bofur attempted to spin a tale to get them out of it but failed greatly. “STOP! If they will not talk, we will make them squawk! Bring up the Mangler! Bring up the Bone Breaker!” The Goblin King turned and pointed at Freye before saying, “Start with their precious little female!”

“NO!” Fíli shouted lunged forward only to be stopped by the goblins again. His heart was in his throat as Freye was pulled forward and shoved toward the Goblin King. Kíli shouted behind him, fighting the grasp of the goblins again. The whole Company tried to surge forward but the goblins overwhelmed them by their numbers.

The Goblin King began singing again, promising torture to all. The Goblin King leered toward her, a nasty gleam in his eyes.

"I have never seen a female dwarf such as yourself," the Goblin King remarked. "No beard! Disgraceful little creature." He grabbed her around the waist, arms pinned to her sides, and hauled her close to his face. She cringed, leaning as far as she could away from him.

"Freye!" Thorin's strong voice reached her through the noise. Her breathing came quick as the Goblin King eyed her closely. He used his other hand to poke at her hair, some of her braids loose from the larger braid she had taken to wearing them in. He pulled at one roughly.

The sound of ripping filled her ear. Her eyes watered as she saw her braid dangling from the Goblin King's fingers. If she was right, it was her mastery braid. Her head ached at the pain of the removal.

"Braids like a dwarf," the king commented. He tossed the braid to the side. Nori was just within grasp of it, fingers curling around the braid and shoving it deep into a pocket. The removal of a braid was a mark of shame to dwarrows. Despite being a law breaker himself, he still wore his braids and had never had one removed. It was something you did not do.

"Let me go," Freye demanded. She attempted to kick him but her legs were too short. The Goblin King scoffed and went about poking her with one finger. The blows, while soft to a goblin, were harsh against her skin. She bit back a cry at the bruising developing on her breasts.

"More curves than a dwarf too." The Goblin King's eyes narrowed. He poked one of her pointed ears. "And too short for an elf! You are a descendent of the halflings! Those treacherous creatures! What is your name?" he demanded shaking her. Her head snapped back and forth. "Are you kin of the King Slayer? Are you family of the Bull?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she snapped when he paused. He shook her again, rougher this time.

"You lie! You are of the King Slayers! You're tall as he was! You shall bear the scars for what he did to us!" He adjusted his grip on her, snagging one arm out from his fist, and held it tight.

"Let her go!"

The Goblin King pressed her arm against the hot metal of the nearest torch. Her bare forearm stuck to the spikes that came up from the goblet holding the oil, skin peeling away as he pulled her back after a minute pressed against it. Her screams were cut off with how tight the king held her around her chest. Every breath was a fight.

"That's the least of your pain, King Slayer!" Before it could go any further, Orcrist made itself known. Suddenly, the blood of a halfling meant nothing compared to the blade that killed thousands of goblins. The Goblin King threw her back at the group of dwarrows, ordering them to be beaten and slain. Fíli, closest to where she had landed, pulled her close and held her under him as the whips cracked.

The bright light of Gandalf’s arrival caught the attention of all. Beside Freye and Fíli, Kíli and their belongings laid. Freye took the chance to snag her weapons and bag, sliding them on swiftly with practiced ease. She grabbed Fíli’s things and tossed them to the dwarf who caught them and slid them on. Bofur threw weapons over his head to his brother. Kíli grabbed his weapons and fell in line behind Fíli and Freye as they followed Thorin and Gandalf out of danger.

“Has anyone seen Bilbo?” she shouted as they ran. She drew her sword and shifted her grip to put the weight in her non-dominant hand. The forearm of her dominant hand would not sustain the weight. Her mind was buzzing. If the Goblin King found Bilbo, he would be worse off than she had been. While Freye was not instantly recognized as one with hobbit blood, he would be. She had thought the goblins had forgotten about the actions of Bullroarer, evidently not though.

“Slipped away!” Nori called forward. She sliced a goblin’s head off. “I think he got away clean.”

“Worry about your cousin later!” Thorin shouted as he struck down another goblin.

She couldn’t afford to worry about Bilbo as they faced every goblin between here and the outside of the mountain. She did keep a trained eye looking for him as they ran. She jumped over the body of an odd, not very goblin like creature that Nori slew as the reached a tunnel leading out into the light. Freye screamed for Bilbo, praying he heard her and was able to follow.

Once clear of danger, the Company stopped to breathe and take in their numbers. Bilbo was still missing. Thorin’s face twisted into an unknown expression. His heart clenched at the thought of what could have, what likely did happen to the hobbit. He glanced at Freye whose face had fallen. There was nothing he could do to make this better.

“I failed him,” she whispered. “I swore to protect him. I failed.”

“If he was smart he found a way out and headed back to Rivendell,” Thorin said. He sincerely hoped that that was the case. “Freye, you must admit he has thought often of his soft bed and warm berth since he left the Shire. He would be safer in Rivendell. We will not see our hobbit again, he is long gone.” I should send you back, you and Fíli and Kíli and even young Ori. You should have never come along, he thought mournfully. Just look at what that got their burglar.

“How dare you!” she shrieked and started to charge at the king-in-exile. Fíli grabbed her around the middle, pulling her back and trying to calm her. Kíli grabbed her shoulders and held her firm as well. "You saw what they did to me! For being of hobbit blood! What do you think they'll do to Bilbo?" The tears welled in her eyes. Her cousin, her darling little cousin who she would die for, would die alone, beaten and tortured by goblins, because she failed to protect him.

“Let her speak, Nephew. She has the right. As she said, insult one hobbit, insult both." To Dwalin and Balin, they heard how broken his voice truly was. Their king knew all to well, it would seem, what fate their burglar would have.

“Not really an insult if it’s true though.” The group turned toward the higher side of the mountain where Bilbo stood weaving between a few trees. He looked a little worse for wear, but he was alive and whole. “Fell down a shaft. I heard Freye’s shouts, followed them out of the mountain. The shaft must have been close to the tunnel we came out of. Managed to avoid most of the goblins, snuck past a few.”

“How?” Fíli asked. Kíli simply grinned at the appearance of their burglar before grasping Freye’s shoulder as she broke down in relief. She nearly collapsed in the arms of the two Durins but Fíli's' already firm grasp kept her up. Her cousin was safe, that was all that mattered to her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Gandalf insisted. “He’s here now.”

“It matters. I want to know. Why did you come back?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo looked at Thorin for a moment before he shook his head. “I know you doubt me; I know you always have. You’re right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books and my armchair. My garden. See, that’s where I belong. That’s my home. That’s why I came back; you don’t have one, a home. It was taken from you, but I will help you take it back if I can.” With so few words, Bilbo had silenced the whole Company.

The howls of approaching wargs caught the attention of the whole group. Dwalin shifted his stance, his axe in hand and watching the trees for the enemies that were sure to emerge.

“Out of the frying pan,” Thorin said.

“And into the fire,” Gandalf finished. “Run. Run!”

The group fled down the hill as fast as they could, night descending rapidly and blanketing the land in darkness. Freye glanced over her shoulder at the sound of nearing wargs but kept running, her pace matching Kíli and Fíli’s own. Freye spotted Bilbo take down a warg and struggle to remove his sword as they fled into the trees, a desperate bid to escape. Bilbo joined them soon after, his cousin pulling him up the last bit. Freye drew her bow and notched her arrows, aiming carefully for what she could through the branches.

The wargs attacked the trees, forcing them to jump from tree to tree until the whole Company clung to the tree on the very edge of the cliff. Gandalf’s fire pine cones provided some relief and more light for Freye to aim. She took out the orcs first and then wargs, anything to lighten their numbers.

Then her hand met the open air of an empty quiver. “I’m out of arrows.”

“My line broke,” Kíli remarked and slid his quiver over her head. The quiver hung by her waist as she pulled an arrow out and aimed. She thanked him and continued firing. Still, there were too many wargs and orcs to defeat in such a way. Having fewer adversaries was the only thing that kept her firing.

The tree shook and tipped over the edge. Gandalf was quick to grab Dori and Ori as they fell. The others of the Company barely had the time to grab onto the tree with dear life.

Thorin sensed the urgency of the fight and charged down the tree with his sword ready and his oaken shield up. Bilbo climbed up the tree with relative ease, staring after the king-in-exile as he ran toward the enemy. Fíli shoved Freye up onto the truck and she straddled it so she could help Fíli and Kíli up. Kíli hurried to grab Dwalin before he could fall.

Freye turned to check on Bilbo only to see him charging into the fight. Cursing the hobbit, she took off after him, drawing her blade as went. He tackled the orc headed for Thorin and killed him with well-aimed, powerful blows. Freye slid up behind him as he fell back to defend Thorin. The orcs closed in. The command to kill was given, the vicious smile on the lead orc’s face sending a shiver down her back.

Fíli and Kíli charged into the fray, battling back wargs and orcs.

“Freye, defend Thorin!” Dwalin shouted as he joined the fight. Bilbo ran back into the fight as Freye drew closer to the fallen king. She snagged his oaken shield to assist her. It would be better to have a shield and face the consequences of stealing his shield later. She fell into a defense stance. One warg and rider were stupid enough to attempt getting by her. She slew them both, using the shield to block the warg’s vicious teeth.

Giant eagles descended on the cliff, attacking and throwing wargs and their riders off the sheer cliff with ease. She spotted an eagle grabbing one of the Company and knew they would come for Thorin as well. She fell back to him, sheathing his sword and hauling him up onto her back. She ran alongside the one that had aimed for Thorin and jumped onto its back as the cliff gave way. She heard Bilbo’s frightened shouts as another eagle tossed him to the back of the companion.

In the darkness, Freye did her best to treat Thorin’s wounds as they flew. The elfish incantations rolled off her tongue, shaking fingers reaching into her herb bag and pulling out a few. She struggled to get her water skin to wet the herbs and make them into a paste. She applied them as best she could, applying bandages as well.

The sun had begun to rise as the eagles flew down to a giant stone pillar that rose high into the air, the Carrock. The eagle stopped on the cliff and crouched down low enough for Freye to pull Thorin down and lay him down.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“The pleasure was ours,” the eagle replied before flying off. She stared after it for a moment before shaking her head and began checking Thorin’s wounds in the increasing light. Gandalf was suddenly at her side.

“I healed him as best I could. He hasn’t stirred yet.”

“You have done well for so few lessons. I believe he just needs a little push.” He put his hand over Thorin’s face and murmured an incantation. Thorin breathed in deeper and blinked, rousing almost instantly. Behind them, Bilbo sighed with relief.

“The halfling?” Thorin asked.

“It’s quite all right. Bilbo is here. He’s quite safe.” The other dwarrows moved over to their king as Freye and Fíli helped him sit up. He gave her an appreciative nod before straightening up and turning his attention to her younger cousin.

“You! What were you doing?” Thorin demanded of Bilbo. Freye was powerless to keep the frown off her cousin’s face but that did not mean she wouldn’t comfort him. She started to cross the Carrock to her cousin only for Thorin to hold her back with one arm. “You nearly go yourself killed! Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive the Wild? That you had no place among us?” Thorin moved forward, quick and sure of his movements. “I have never been so wrong in all my life.” He hugged Bilbo tightly, his face turned into the neck of the hobbit. The surprise that ran through the Company and Bilbo was expected. Thorin pulled away some, quickly glancing over Bilbo for injuries and glad when he found none. “I am sorry I doubted you.”

“No, I would have doubted me too,” Bilbo confessed. “I’m not a hero, or a warrior, not even a burglar.” The smiles of the Company were well worth it.

It was then that Thorin noticed something in the distance and Bilbo followed his gaze. In the distance, Erebor’s lonely peak was visible. Gandalf introduced the kingdom but Thorin summed it up better, saying, “Our home.”

Deep inside Freye, she could feel the longing and the rightness of Erebor. Yes, it would be her home too.

The climb down the Carrock was a long one, long enough that it was nearing dark again by the time they reached the bottom. The stairs to descend from the Carrock were made for a man taller than even Gandalf and it was a team effort to get down them. Everyone was sore and hurting, some more injured than others. Thorin needed the aid of both of his nephews to descend the stairs, his ribs crying out in protest as he went.

With no other choice, they made camp near the Carrock, closer to a stream that ran by it and fed into the Anduin not far from where they were. Óin attended to the injures first. Freye stayed far from Óin. She did not feel physically injured, beside her arm, but did not want anyone examining her. Her skin was still crawling from the Goblin King. Instead, she took to the forest to find more food with Thorin approval; it seemed his mind was full of his own pain and worries for his burglar, causing him to forget her wound for now. He sent Fíli with her in case there was trouble. She and Kíli had managed to make some rough arrows, enough to kill a few rabbits and such but not enough to kill an orc.

She had gathered many berries in her shawl-turned-sack. Her shawl had been one thing she brought with her, the cloth good at keeping out the wind. Fíli watched her back as they walked through the woods. He had a line of foxes and rabbits hanging from his belt, his sword out and ready to fight.

Fíli stopped her when they entered a small clearing with a few downed trees. He led her over to one and motioned silently for her arm.

"We should treat that."

"It's fine," she replied. She had shoved her sleeves, which had been rolled up before Goblin Town, down to cover the burns. Her sleeve stuck to the skin, dark stains coming through.

Fíli took her hand slowly, careful of each move, and looked her in the eye. "No it's not. I won't push you, Freye, but that needs to be bandaged. Please. Just me and you. No need to get Óin involved. Here, away from everyone else. I won't judge you. I won't touch you unless you need my help. Just, please. You have to take care of yourself too."

They searched each other's eyes for moments before she gave a soft nod. He took out his waterskin, one of the few they had saved, and she took out her pouch. She took one of the nearly empty wax pouches and dripped some water in and mixed the herbs and oils she needed. She rolled her sleeve up and washed the wound off with water, biting back the cry as she did. She held the mix out to Fíli.

"Put it on thickly," she said. "Wash your hands first." He did, thorough in his washing with what they had, and then dipped his fingers in. He coated the line of burns. The spikes on the goblet were spaced out, the largest about the length of his middle finger apart, and the smaller ones that were lost in the shadows of the fire finger's width apart. It looked like a line of teeth against her arm. When he finished coating the skin, he took the bandages she offered and slowly bound her arm.

"Anything else?" he asked. He held her hand in his still. She shook her head. She was sore, bruised, but she was certain there were no other wounds. He smiled in relief. She paused for a minute before leaning forward into Fíli. She sniffled and wrapped her fingers in his coat. He wrapped his arms around her and put his head against hers. Her shoulders shook and he kissed the side of her head. "I'm here, promise." He kissed her cheek again, this time tasting a hint of blood. He pulled back and saw the shorter hairs and the bleeding spot where her braid had been yanked. He took some of the paste and gently worked it into the wound. She held tight and he whispered comforting words until he was done.

"Lay by me tonight?" he asked. "So I can be there...if you need me."

"I think being with you will be the only place I feel safe," she replied. "Come on, we should head back."

Before they could stand, they heard a soft whining, like an injured animal. Fíli looked at her before they both headed toward the river and followed it up to a small clearing.

Lying with its hind legs caught in a cable snare -- One used by the most vicious of Men and were known to snare children or those wandering the woods for food and often times sent those caught into a worse trap. Fíli had once seen a snare like this that pulled its victim into a pit lined with sharp sticks. Thorin had seen to collecting the head of that trapper, the life of child of Men had been taken due to that trap. Fíli had still been young when he saw it, out learning the forest with his uncle and Dwalin. He would have thought snares like these would have been phased out already. -- was a warg. It was not a fully-grown warg, one that Fíli would have likely killed quickly in its vulnerable position. No, this was a pup, barely large enough for a hobbit or perhaps even a dwarf to ride. Fíli moved to kill it anyway only to stop when Freye put her hand on his chest. He looked at her and then back at the warg.

The warg was thin, his ribs coming through his fur, and the area around the cable was raw and bloody from attempts to bite through the cable and possibly its own legs. It was whimpering even as Freye approached. She took a rabbit off Fíli’s string and offered it to the warg. Fíli watched as the warg sniffed it before snagging it by its paws. Freye smiled and let it go. She moved down to the cable, slow and deliberate. She inspected the cable before deciding that pulling on it until it broke wherever it was anchored was better. She did just that, pleased that it did not take long to cause the slack necessary to free the warg. She pulled the cable off and tossed it aside.

The warg got to its feet slowly, stumbling a little as it did. It moved forward and nudged Freye’s hand. She smiled and scratched him behind the ear while motioning Fíli to give her another rabbit. He walked forward and offered it to the warg. The warg looked between them nervously before taking the rabbit.

“Good boy,” Freye murmured and scratched him under his chin. “Now go find your mother. I am sure she’s worried about you. Be careful of those traps.” She patted him on his broad head and started to walk away with Fíli. The warg started to trail after her. “Oh no you don’t. Go find your mom.” He whined and nuzzled her hand.

“Guess he adopted you,” Fíli commented. He reached out with one hand and scratched him behind the ears. The warg whimpered and leaned into Fíli’s hand as well.

“You mean we. Let’s just get back to camp. He’ll probably leave as we walk.”

He didn’t. He followed them all the way to the camp. Dwalin noticed the warg first and stood with his axe in hand. The pup whined and cowered behind its saviors.

“That’s a warg, a warg pup,” Bilbo said slowly. “Why do you have a warg pup?”

“It won’t leave us alone.” The warg chuffed and nudged the hands of Fíli and Freye. “Bombur, can you spare another one of these?” Fíli asked and lifted up a fox. Bombur nodded and Freye threw the fox as far as she could. The warg bounded off but returned quickly after its snack. The pup settled beside Fíli and Freye as they prepped the kills for Bombur.

“I think you adopted a warg,” Bilbo remarked from where he was helping Óin with Thorin’s wounds. They were binding his ribs so it would be less painful for him to breathe.

“I think it adopted her,” Kíli corrected.

The night watch kept a careful eye on the warg as it curled around Fíli and Freye to keep them safe. Across the camp, Thorin had settled down beside Bilbo. The hobbit blushed and curled into his jacket to stave off the cool air. Thorin moved a little closer, his furnace of a body helping to keep Bilbo warm. The warg was still there in the morning, growling at some unseen threat. Bilbo scouted ahead of the group and found that Azog was approaching fast. They moved before dawn broke, following Gandalf’s lead, even if they now had to contend with a giant bear creature as well.

  
  



	7. 7-10-2941, Near Beorn’s Home

It took two days, two very long days from the time they stepped on the Carrock to the time they reached the pasture outside of a walled home, but they were nearly at some sort of safety. The sun was low in the sky, the night racing toward them. They could hear the large bear-beast chasing them as well as the sounds of the orc pack in the distance.

Freye’s warg, now called Kund (Wolf, boy was Freye imaginative, not. Bilbo nearly lost it when Kíli told him why he was laughing so hard), ran alongside Fíli and Freye. He was fiercely loyal to the young dwarrowdam and the eldest prince. Nori found it hilarious.

“The door!” Ori cried out. Freye spotted the problem as they neared it. She jumped onto Kund and urged him faster. The warg stopped in front of the door, tall enough that Freye was able to open the door for the Company. They managed to secure the door before the bear slammed into it.

“That’s our host?” Freye demanded. The bear growled through the door. Kund whined something back. There was a moment before the bear made a sound, a chuff, that sounded like agreement before it ran off. Fíli sincerely hoped it was going to kill the orcs.

“We’re safe here,” Gandalf insisted. Many of the Company looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Freye was beginning to doubt the supposed superiority of the wizards. All the ones she had met caused chaos. “Eat from our supplies and then sleep. We will ask for the kindness of our host when he arrives.”

There were no arguments among the Company. There were thoughts of setting up a watch but everyone was so tired that most had dozed off before they could made decent sleeping spots. Thorin let the watch go. They were safe, or as safe as they could be. If not, he was almost certain that Kund would wake them all up. For all he knew of wargs, he had never expected to be in extended company of one.

Freye curled up against Kund. Fíli and Kíli came over. Fíli settled down next to Freye, serving as her pillow once again. Kíli went to set up cloak next to the pair and the warg only to be tugged by his cloak over to his brother and nosed into place by the warg surrounding them. Kíli didn’t argue. The warg gave all three of them licks before curling his tail around them and putting his head down next to Kíli’s. Freye pulled Kíli closer, her hands wrapped in his shirt as Fíli held her from behind.

"Do you mind if I?" Kíli asked and motioned to put an arm over her and Fíli. Kíli hadn't left his brother's side since he returned to the campsite by the Carrock. The younger dwarf wouldn't admit it but he thought Goblin Town was the end.

Freye snagged his arm and pulled it over her waist and placed his hand so it was firmly on his brother's coat. Fíli reached over and ruffled Kíli's hair with a smile before putting his lips on the top of Freye's head and closing his eyes. Thorin looked over at the trio, all of them wrapped in each other, and smiled. He was glad they could find the comfort they needed.

His eyes drifted over the rest of the Company. Balin had made himself a bed on top of some hay. Dwalin sat beside him, back to the wall and hand resting on his axe, while his legs touched his brother's arm. Glóin had pulled Óin over to a comfortable spot of hay and saw his elder brother to bed before pulling out Óin's crushed ear horn and slowly prying it open. If he could get a decent hole made in it, Óin would hear better. He fell asleep in the middle of his task, his hand coming to rest on Óin's shoulder.

Ori, Dori, and Nori were curled up together in a corner. Ori was once again in the middle of their pile, his head resting on Nori's shoulder while his arms were around Dori's arm. Dori had angled himself up to sleep with his chest above Ori's head and his free arm curled around Nori's back. The middle Ri had thrown his arm over both his brothers, fingers tight in Dori's shirt. For all their arguing, the Brothers Ri were a loyal group.

The same could be said for the Ur family. Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur had bed down near Freye and his nephews. Bofur had taken his hat off and put it on Bombur's head. Bifur had grabbed his dark haired cousin and put him between Bombur and himself. Bombur had let his elder brother and his cousin to cushion their heads on his arm. Bombur also had his blanket still and threw it over all three of them. Bofur hummed a melody, one that Thorin recognized as a lullaby.

Gandalf had curled up against a wall, his staff at the ready for any danger.

That left Bilbo and Thorin. Thorin took his surcoat off and spread it out over the hay. Bilbo, who wasn't sure where to sleep, was pulled over to his side. The hobbit curled up on the coat. Thorin laid down behind him, arm around the hobbit's waist.

"I take back every cruel word," the king said. "I feared for you. I wished you had not come so you would not be in danger. More times than I can count I have thought of sending you and the youngest of us back to safety. When you were separated from us, I feared for you. My only hope was that you had found a way out, back to safety, to Rivendell where they would care for you. I did not want to see them do to you what they threatened us with."

"I'm here Thorin. I'm safe."

"And I will thank Mahal for it until the day I die," Thorin replied. Bilbo turned over to face the king. He wrapped his fingers in Thorin's shirt and rested his head on Thorin's arm.

"Good night Thorin."

"Good night, ‘ibinê."

The next morning, Freye woke earlier than the others. She slowly opened her eyes and spied their host fixing breakfast at the table. He didn’t look murderous, just annoyed. She glanced at Thorin, sleeping next to Bilbo and with one hand on Orcrist, and then at Gandalf, passed out in a bed of hay with his hat pulled over his face. She did not want Thorin’s runaway, insulting mouth to get them in trouble and Gandalf would make a fool of himself and the Company. She slipped out of Kíli and Fíli’s grasp and outside of the protective circle Kund had formed around them. Kund looked up at her but Freye motioned him to go back to sleep. Kund nodded and curled tighter around the two litter mates that claimed her rescuer as their own. Kíli and Fíli curled up against each other, looking every bit the brothers that they were as Fíli wrapped Kíli in his arms and held firm. Kíli had tucked his head under Fíli's chin.

Their host turned to address her as she came around the table. His eyes examined her critically. Freye gave a bow of her head and held her hands passively in front of her, trying to look like an innocent fauntling that had ended up in a field they weren’t supposed to be in.

“You are not entirely dwarf." The way he said it was not accusatory. It was curious. It didn't feel like the Goblin King's accusation of being a halfing. She put on a smile though still not at ease.

“No I am not.”

“What are you?”

“Those that dislike me call me dwobbit, a mix of dwarf and hobbit. My cousin there is a hobbit.” She pointed at Bilbo. She could not remember the last time she had been called a dwobbit. The taunt came mostly from so-called respectable hobbits that viewed her line as a shame. A dwarf had once called her that but his tone had been friendly about it, a way to address her that was more accurate than dwarrowdam or hobbit she supposed. She still cringed at the word. “The gentlest race in all of Arda arguably. The caretakers of the land, the children of Yavanna the Green Lady. I apologize for our abrupt appearance but we are in need of aid. We are a party of dwarrows, a hobbit, a wizard, and most recently a warg. Azog the Defiler has been hunting us for some reason, sending parties of orcs after us. We have barely escaped them each time. Now, we are worse off. We were captured by goblins as we passed through the Misty Mountains. We lost many of our packs and some of our weapons. We do not have supplies enough to make it to a village. Gandalf the Grey, our wizard, knows of you through Radagast the Brown. He hoped you might be kind enough to shelter us for a time, so we might regain our health and scavenge for supplies. We have injured among us.” She bowed again. “I am Freye Astaul, at your service.” She wasn't certain why she called herself by her mother's name. Perhaps it was being around dwarrows, but Took didn't feel quite right anymore. At times she felt like Freye Took, the naive young adult that had thirsted for new lands and followed Thorin on this Valar-forsaken trip. Other times she felt like Freye Astaul, trained to be a warrior and smith. Speaking for the Company, she felt compelled to be Astaul, the one that did not fear.

“Beorn.” He glanced over the party. “The orcs fear me still, for good reason. I dislike dwarves, they are greedy and self-centered, but I hate orcs more. They will not approach you here. You are safe on my lands. You all may rest and resupply. I do not allow the cooking of meat on my lands. These animals are under my protection. However, I do have leathers from animals that died of old age or maiming that can be used. I have wool as well. You may harvest some of my vegetables and fruits as well as take some of my honey cakes and other foodstuffs. Much will have to be crafted, in the ways of packs and weapons.”

“I will gladly exchange my services at a forge for our supplies. We should repay the kindness you show us with acts of our own. We have many craftsmen with us, that is nearly the entirety of our company. We will gladly make do with whatever you see fit to give us and repay you in whatever form we can.” Beorn watched her, looking for a lie it seemed, before he turned his eyes to someone behind her. She turned to see Thorin standing there. He did not look angry at her act of negotiation on their part; in fact, he looked pleased with her words.

“Does she speak for your company, dwarf?”

“Her terms are agreeable if they satisfy you as well. I am Thorin Oakenshield, at your service.”

“Beorn. Very well then. I have a simple forge you may use, it was made by those that lived in these lands before me. The weapons of my enemies lay beside the forge in the lean-to. Take as many as you please. A stream runs close to the forge and is deep enough to bathe in. There are areas where bird feathers can be harvest for fletching. Ask and if I possess it, I will share it. I ask for three new axe heads and two knives. Most of mine are chipped and my hands are not made for forging.”

“May I see them for dimensional comparison?” Freye asked.

“I will bring them to the forge later. Now, little wolf, wake your companions. Breakfast is ready. Your warg may have this.” He held out a slab of raw meat. “The orc pack’s wargs killed several bucks last night when they crossed their path. I brought the bucks back. One should keep your pup fed for a time. The other two could be smoked and preserved for travel. I ask that you do that outside of my house and downwind. I will only allow the cooking of meat this once.”

“You are truly generous. Their hides can be used as well. Thank you,” Thorin said. Beorn nodded and dropped the slab of meat into Freye’s hands.

“Your pup is too young to be away from his mother. It would not have abandoned him lightly. Orphaned, likely some time ago. His mother may have been taken by the orcs for breeding. There are few wild wargs left, ones that can be kind if raised by a gentle hand.” Freye nodded at that, walking over to the warg.

“It has a family now,” Thorin said. He watched as Freye roused his sister-sons and fed the warg. “It has a new mother and a father to watch over it.”

“Perhaps dwarves are not as bad as I remember,” Beorn commented.

The Company was glad to eat, even if they were up before the sun was. The milk was filling, as were the honey cakes. Bilbo, their expert at cooking with vegetables, was asking their host as to what he kept around the kitchen and what was in the garden. She could see the gears turning in his mind and knew that dinner would be a decent spread. Dori, Nori, and Ori asked about the leathers and wool. Nori would set to turning the wool into yarn and Ori would create blankets from that. Dori planned the packs that would need to be replaced as well as whatever clothing he could replace. Bofur and Bifur offered to help Dori; while their skills were not with cloth and thread, they were detail workers. Óin and Glóin would set off to find more herbs for their dwindling medical supplies. Glóin offered to carry the herbs for his brother and then the two of them would seal them away in the wax paper that Freye still had. Óin praised Mahal when he realized Freye had hidden her stash of herbs and her book inside the pouch and then inside the bustier she wore. It was highly amusing to watch. Balin and Bombur volunteered to take care of the deer carcasses. Balin would have much rather been working on anything else but he knew Bombur would need the help.

During breakfast, Kíli and Freye talked over the task of crafting more arrows. It was decided that Kíli would harvest the feathers for fletching; the colors of the feathers were of little importance at the moment, even if Kíli planned to look particularly hard for feathers that matched those of his signature fletching and hers. They simply needed feathers and they would settle for what they could get. Meanwhile, Freye would head to the forge and start cranking out the arrowheads and Beorn’s order. She also had a few other weapons added on top of that, requests from the others that had lost weapons. Thorin volunteered his services in the forge and sent his eldest nephew and Dwalin to gather water for inside the forge. While Dwalin was a decent blacksmith himself, he could do more by simply letting Thorin and Freye work in tandem. He offered to sharpen whatever they produced and Fíli volunteered as well. If two people sharpened and two crafted, they would be far better off in the long run.

"Freye, Thorin, time to look at your wounds," Óin said as the food was finished. Thorin barely grumbled and went toward where Óin motioned. There were bedrooms in Beorn's home and the skinchanger was nice enough to show Óin where they were so he could treat their injured.

"I'm fine," Freye told the elder healer.

"The hell you are," the greying dwarf replied. "You may have bandaged it yourself but I still want a look at it." Freye opened her mouth to protest again but Fíli put his hand on her shoulder. They exchanged a look before she nodded and followed the elder dwarf to the room.

Thorin was shirtless when they walked in. He let Óin take off his bandages and check the wounds. He nodded in approval, commenting to Freye that she had mended his surely broken ribs with her magic faster than natural healing. They were still tender but they would be healed completely soon enough.

"You did magic?" Thorin asked.

"Don't you remember our talk after the Trollshaws?" Freye asked. "If it is not my own wound, I can aid in the healing."

"When? You were not treating me on the Carrock."

"The eagle," Óin answered for him. "She healed you while in flight."

"But you were injured. That would have made you weaker," Thorin protested. He gave her a look, one full of warmth. "Oh mabannamûna."

"I couldn't let you die, nu'adad." The dwarfish king pulled her into his arms and held her firm. "I couldn't."

"Thank you, my dear, but do not risk yourself in such a way. Now then, let Óin see to your burns." She nodded and he left. Óin took off her bandages and inspected the burns. They would scar. The blisters were forming, flattened due to the bandage. Óin popped them with a cleaned needle before cleaning the wounds and lathering the same paste Freye had used before into place. He wrapped new bandages around her arm and had her test the tightness. He didn't want her to have issues in the forge.

"Óin," she started.

"Yes lass?"

"How come you can hear without your ear trumpet?" He smirked at her words.

"Ah, well my hearing isn't as bad as I make it out to be," Óin replied. "Best hearing is with the trumpet but I can do well without it. However, if everyone thinks you're deaf, they say more. Can't count how many dwarrows I've pummelled for speaking out against my kin." Freye grinned at the thought of Óin being a sneaky dwarf. "Can I see your head?"

Neither of them moved. Freye swallowed, her hand coming up to brush where the hair had been yanked out. Only Fíli had made a comment about it.

"I promise to be gentle lass. Just want to see if it's healing well. I doubt all those hairs came out clean." She swallowed and pulled her hair out of his way. He cleaned the scabbed spots, putting some paste on them, and eased her hair into place to conceal it. He patted her shoulder. "Ever need to talk, I'll be here."

"Thank you Óin." She left him to join the others. Fíli and Dwalin went out to the stream to start getting water for the forge. They would need water to drink, to cool off with, and for the forging process. While oil would be better for quenching, they would work with what they have. Beorn did remark that there was a large store of salt in one of his sheds. Dwalin would start making a brine for the quenching, knowing by eye just how much to add.

"Freye, before we go out there," Thorin said in a way of calling her over. He stood beside Nori who had something in his hand. She joined them and watched as Nori opened his hand. It was her braid.

"I caught it when the Goblin King threw it," he said.

"I know I am not your master nor am I your grandmother, but as a master smith, it would be my honor to restore what was taken from you," Thorin said. Nori held out the braid and Thorin took the bead off with care. "May I?"

Freye could only nod. She stood still while Thorin worked the braid into her hair and placed the bead in place. Nori gave her the strands of hair. She knotted them and put them in her pocket. She gathered the thief into her arms.

"Thank you Nori. Thank you." He patted her back.

"Even I respect braids," he said. "Just glad you could get it back." With that, he left to start his tasks.

Thorin reached over and pulled her in for a soft headbutt. She held onto him firmly. "You are not shamed," he whispered. "You are not a disgrace. You are one of the bravest dwarrowdams I know, right up there with my sister and your grandmother. Never forget you have people that are proud of you."

"Thank you, nu'adad." He looped his arm around her back and led her toward the forge. It was time to get started.

Some time later after the old weapons had been shaped into pliable metals, Thorin asked, “How many arrowheads are you planning?” They worked well together, striking in order and flowing around seamlessly in the forge. Fíli and Dwalin ducked in and out with water and coal but even they did not disrupt the pattern.

“As many as we can and weapons as well. Dori told me how much leather there is and he will have extra. Whatever spares we have, we can craft them into hidden spots on vambraces, shin guards, anything we can possibly create. I will not go without arrowheads again.” She struck the metal in front of her, prepared it for the quench, and did exactly that. “I rather think my hair could use more decorations, don’t you? Fíli’s a jeweler, right?”

Thorin’s laughter was heard even in the garden where Bilbo was working on their food for dinner. A soft smile broke the hobbit’s face as he heard the lightheartedness of the laugh.

"Plus," she added as she grabbed a quickly sketched design from one of the work tables, "I think Ori needs his own warhammer, don't you? I think Dwalin will get frustrated if he keeps borrowing it."

"He's got the famed Ri strength he does," Dwalin commented. "Unrefined though."

"He's a scribe, not a hardened warrior," Fíli defended. Freye laughed at the two who bickered and then at Dwalin's declaration to have the young scribe skilled with the warhammer before Fíli could finish reciting the line of his forefathers.

Thorin just shook his head and went back to work.


	8. 7-12-2941, Beorn’s Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first pair begin courting.

They decided to remain at Beorn’s ten days, it was long enough for them to rest properly and replenish their supplies. Thorin healed quickly, partly thanks to Gandalf but more thanks to Freye’s quick actions. He was able to swing a hammer in the forge without much difficulty. Between Óin and then Gandalf (someone told the wizard about all the happenings in Goblin Town, Balin was everyone's guess), Freye's arm healed rather quickly. It was still sore and healing, and would be when they left, but it was better than most would have hoped. With their pattern of forging and then handing off the weapons to be cleaned up by Fíli and Dwalin (Balin joined as well after the meats were smoked), they would only need three days in the forge, and the third day would be Freye working alone with Thorin while Dwalin and Fíli went to help Kíli locate shafts for arrows. It was on the second day, with Fíli and Dwalin helping to deliver food to everyone, that Thorin and Freye had a chance to sit and eat in some peace during a well-earned lunch.

Thorin cleared his throat and glanced at Freye as she took a long drink of water.

“How do hobbits court?”

She spit her water out, a four foot stream, across the grass, in shock. She coughed, wiping her mouth and struggling to breathe again. She had not expected that question. “What? Why do you need to know? If it’s about Fíli and me, I planned to follow dwarfish traditions.”

“No, it’s not about you and Fíli. Though thank you for confirming that you have as much interest in him as he does in you.” His smile was light but haunted with indecision. He scratched the back of his head nervously. “I, uh, I.”

Realization dawn on her. “Bilbo, you want to court Bilbo.” He looked a little sheepish as she stared blankly at him. “This whole time I was right. The only reason you were so against his presence on this quest was because you cared for him.” The silence between them confirmed that. “When did you know?”

“When he ran after us.” Oh of course, it would have been his first glimpse at the true person behind the hobbit. “I have tried to distance myself. The Durin line is cursed when it comes to expeditions, or so my people have come to say. My father, my grandfather, my brother, all lost because of expeditions, quests, wars when we should have been at home with our family.” Thorin cleared his throat, looking up into her eyes for the first time. “We always seem to lose those we love most. That is why I do not object to you and Fíli; Mahal forbid, but your time together may be short.” He picked up a long carrot that Bilbo had handed him before saying it was good for him. He gazed over at the garden, where Bilbo was surely back to work finding foods that would keep during their travel if he prepared them right. “I will tell Bilbo how I feel for him before we reach Erebor.”

“That is sweet of you, nu'adad.”

“You know, you can call me that around the others if you wish, or simply call me Thorin. I am more than your king. Or perhaps when you start to court Fíli, uncle would be more fitting, even more than nu'adad I suppose.” She laughed softly, nodding along to his words. “The hobbit traditions?”

“Well, one would typically ask a member of the family for permission, normally the father or mother of the intended. Bilbo’s parents passed away years ago. As such, you would go to the next closest family member that knows the intended well or the head of the family. Technically, Bilbo is the head of the Baggins Family. He is the Baggins of Bag End, it makes him akin to a lord in the terms of dwarrows. He is not the head of the Took family though, and there is a Baggins of close relation that could fulfill the role as well. On the Took side is Fortinbras Took II, the current Thain and Bilbo’s cousin on his mother’s side. The Thain is one of our rulers, if you want to call them a ruler. They primarily help to keep the law going and deal with outsiders. The Master of Tuckborough is similar to that as well and is actually a relative of Bilbo’s. On the Baggins side, we have Belba Baggins, the next oldest sibling of his father. She’s the secondary head of the Baggins family, likely took over for the most part when Bilbo left. I suppose I should have written her as well, oh well.

“You do not necessarily have to ask permission though. Bilbo is fifty-one, eighteen years past his majority, and the Head of the Baggins Clan. He does not have to listen to his relatives, ‘cept maybe the Thain. Most of the Shire viewed him as a confirmed bachelor. He could readily give his consent without others interfering. Even a negative reaction from a relative doesn’t mean a wedding wouldn’t happen. All it takes is two loving hearts and the willingness to go as far as they possibly can to be happy.”

“Could you give the relationship a blessing or are you too far removed?”

“Quite the opposite actually. Bilbo and I are like siblings, everyone in the Shire knows this. With how young my parents died and with Belladonna’s accident, we were to be the only children in our houses. I spent much of my youth in Bag End. Truthfully? He’s the only reason I visit the Shire anymore. Too few of the Brandybucks or Noakes care for me the way he does.” She gave Thorin a smile. “I give my consent, readily and happily. I haven’t seen Bilbo this happy since his parents were alive. Every time you show that true kindness you have for him, he is the happiest I have ever seen. Just stop insulting him so much; I know a good bit of it was in jest but it still weighs on him. Also, Halfling is a derogatory term. We’re not half of anything.”

“Mahal’s beard! Why didn’t you say anything? Or him?”

“Until the Carrock I don’t think he felt he had earned your respect and trust. He knew he had to earn his place in the Company. My cousin is not stupid nu'adad.” She pulled out her pipe, freshly crafted by Bifur last night as they sat table talking, and packed it with pipe-weed that Beorn had shared. She was almost certain it was Old Toby. She wanted to know where Beorn got the barrels of it. Did he trade with Rivendell? Lord Elrond could have sent him some, he always had some for when Gandalf passed through and needed more. Or perhaps a Man had travelled toward Lake-town and traded with Beorn. Whatever it was, she wanted to know where he got it. She knew Bilbo needed more.

She used an ember from the forge to light the pipe. The smoke ring she puffed out into the air made her remember nights in the Shire trying to outdo her cousin. It was a memory that put her in a good mood.

“Then to court him?”

“That might be a little tricky here in the Vales of Anduin but we can adapt the tradition. I don’t think Bilbo will mind. You take the flower assigned to him at birth as well as your own and braid them into a flower crown of other flowers conveying your feelings to him. I may be mistaken, but Beorn might actually have Bilbo’s birth flower here. Suppose that makes sense, hobbits lived in the Vales of Anduin for millennia before moving to the Shire.”

“What is his flower?”

“Oleander, it’s poisonous. It means caution. I think his mother thought she was being funny, though hers wasn’t much better if the rumors are to be believed. The particular species she picked though, I’ve only ever seen three of the plants in the Shire and they are either at Bag End or at the Great Smials where she grew up. I have seen a similar plant all over the Anduin but haven’t had a chance to look at it closely.”

“Could you help me make the crown? Is that allowed? I have a talent for braiding but I’ve never done it with flowers. I don’t have a flower, can I still do the crown?”

“I will gift one to you. I have one in mind too.” She gave him a pat on his knee, something Brynye would have done. “If Bilbo accepts it, you’ll know. He’ll wear it, perhaps briefly considering the oleander, but he will wear it to announce to the Company that you are courting. I think I have a pouch in my bag that he can put it in for safekeeping. It is tradition to bury the crown in the grounds of the couple’s home.” She puffed on her pipe and offered it to Thorin. He took a few puffs to calm his nerves. “I suspect he will kiss you right away. He’ll have to give a gift in return, though with our supplies I think he will go with food. That is something common enough with hobbits. Sometimes if a hobbit is not sure that their intended will accept a courtship, they’ll bake for them first. I think Bilbo was doing that this morning, he had something that he wasn’t letting the others eat. You should then give him a gift in return. Since you are dwarf, a bead should do it. I have the perfect one too.” She reached into her shirt and pulled out her necklace. She pulled off a jade colored bead. “That is the bead my grandfather made for my grandmother. Hobbits tend to use family heirlooms as gifts, an attempt to show how much they want the person to be in the family. I would be honored if you used that.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. After the acceptance of each gift, the courting rituals can be decided. Each family has a little different interpretation of the rituals back in the Shire. You and Bilbo can sort that out; you could incorporate more dwarfish practices into it. Be sure to send wedding invitations to the Shire. Some of the Tooks just might brave the wilds to see Bilbo finally married.”

“Noted.”

“And as we don’t have Laying-Stones, we don’t have to worry about children. Though if there was a land to find them, it would be here.”

“Laying-Stones?”

“I mentioned them once before, back at the Trollshaws, though I did not name them. It was a gift for Yavanna from Mahal, a way for her children to have children when it was not safe to carry them inside. Mostly it is how same-sex or couples with fertility problems have children. The Laying-Stones kept plants growing, kept the evil from the minds of all on their lands, and when a small one was used by two people and buried in a garden, it would grow a child.”

“Grow a child?”

“Yes. It hasn’t happened since the time of the Wandering. When the Hobbits lost their lands here, they lost access to the Laying-Stones. It is said one is buried in the Shire, giving what power it can to the land and the people, but it was not a Seed-Stone so it cannot produce more.”

Thorin’s face grew sad and then considerate. “I will find one for Bilbo so he may have the choice of children.”

“That is very kind of you.” She gave him a brilliant smiled before standing up. “Come. Once we have finished in the forges for the day, I will help you make the crown. Then I will find my cousin so you may have a word with him in private.”

The pair worked diligently through the day and stopped just as their prepared metal ran out for the day. Fíli and Dwalin promised to have the sharpening done by dinner time, they were almost done already, and waved the pair of smiths off so they could rest their tired arms.

Freye asked Beorn for permission before they went gallivanting off into is garden to pick the flowers. He found it amusing when she gave the reason and gave her a basket to collect the flowers in. Luckily, this basket was one his dogs carried around so it was small enough that Freye could lift it. The first flower she picked was holly, a long but swaying sprig of it.

She told Thorin what flower she had picked and said, “It is also poisonous but I think it represents you well. Defense is one of its meanings and domestic happiness is the other. I think it suits you and complements the oleander well.” As she spoke, she plucked the oleander she wanted, comparing the amount with the amount of holly. The oleander’s white and pink blossoms were beautiful and full. Next she bent down low and picked up long sprigs of a bell shaped flower. “Lily-of-the-valley, means sweetness, return to happiness, humility, and it also says the recipient has made your life complete.”

“Should we add a few more of that then?” She chuckled at Thorin’s question and plucked a few more for him. She then looked over several identical flowers until she found the right color. “This is primrose, I can’t live without you.” She plucked another flower nearby, the beautiful reds and pinks reminding Thorin of jewels. “Azalea, in this case I would use it as take care of yourself for me.” She looked around and let out a little excited eep. “Red camellia, perfect for a dwarf. It means you’re the flame in my heart.”

“No better way to put it,” Thorin agreed.

She hmm’d and haa’d over the next flower, the white edging showing that the flowers were of the same family but the colors ranged from reds to purples. She found two purple ones that were almost Durin blue, rich and deep in color. “Gloxinia, love at first sight. And these,” she said picking up a larger set and showing them to him, “we will have to carefully braid in.” The purple flowers were lovely to his eyes but he didn’t understand adding such short stemmed flowers to a crown. “They’re purple hyacinths, it means I am sorry and please forgive me. I think this would be a good way to apologize for your brashness.”

“Fitting.”

“I wish there were some magnolias. They mean nobility. Still, these will make a wonderful crown by themselves. I need some tall grasses though.” She plucked a few handfuls of tall grass before sitting down beside the stream.

Freye was a patient teacher. Thorin, indeed, could braid but connecting the braids at the end to make the crown had him pausing for a moment. She helped him complete the loop and then started handing him flowers, telling him where they should be in the crown.

They finished shortly before dinner. The pair washed their hands in the stream before Freye went into the house and snagged her cousin. She lured him out with the promise that Thorin had a question about the sustainability of a plant for packing or at least harvesting its seeds. Bilbo was babbling, confused by the question, but followed after her nonetheless. She stepped back, away from Bilbo, as they reached the stream. Bilbo’s eyes fell on the crown in Thorin’s hands. Thorin thanked Freye for bringing him and she slipped away from the pair, watching from behind a tree. Fíli snuck up behind her but she shushed him so they could watch.

“Bilbo Baggins,” Thorin said slowly, “I ask that you accept my hand in courtship and eventual marriage.” He held the crown toward Bilbo. “My actions on this quest have been rash for I found myself worrying about your safety. That worry stems from the deep care I have for you. I would have you, for the rest of my days, at my side.”

“Thorin.” The hobbit stepped forward, tracing one of the flowers on the crown. “Do you know what each of these means?”

“I do. Your cousin was nice enough to tell me about hobbit traditions and pick the flowers.” He ducked his head in embarrassment, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I braided it though, and put more of the bell-shaped ones in.” Bilbo’s eyes widened a little at that. He looked at the flowers again, cooing as he found his own flower.

“You found it.”

“You’re poisonous, my gem.”

“So are you,” Bilbo chuckled and motioned to the holly that was braided around the oleander. “I think my cousin thought she was being funny. Put it on me?” Thorin nodded and cleared his throat. Bilbo bowed his head slightly and Thorin placed the crown on his head with as much reverence as the consort crown that Thorin would give him in time. He reached up, tugging Thorin down for a kiss. It was long and slow, Thorin’s beard tickling his face. The dwarf king pulled away first, his hand coming up to cup Bilbo’s face. The smile on his face was worth all the flowers in the Shire to Bilbo. “Freye knew I made intent-scones, didn’t she?”

“She thought that was the purpose behind them.”

Bilbo laughed wholeheartedly. “Then I offer them as my gift for I will gladly court you. Hopefully Bofur hasn’t eaten any of the scones before we return.”

“I think Balin would hit him,” Thorin remarked. “I offer you this in turn.” He held out the jade bead. “A courtship bead, one of the Took family. May I braid it into your hair?”

“Please.” Thorin braided the strand of hair quickly, long practiced in it from helping his sister and her sons. The bead fit perfectly in Bilbo’s hair. Then they were kissing again.

Freye and Fíli ran back to the house, eager to be away from the kissing. They were giggling when they entered the house and Kíli asked what they found so amusing. Freye promised they would know soon enough and scared Bofur away from the scones.

The Company cheered when the happy couple walked in, many recognizing the braid in Bilbo’s hair and Balin knowing what the flower crown meant. Brynye had told him about them once, when she was to marry Wystan. He knew more of them from the crown folded up and hidden in a leather pouch hung around his neck and under his shirt. Congratulations were given, hugs exchanged. Kíli insisted on calling Bilbo uncle already.

Freye sidled up next to Bilbo and slipped a wooden bead into his hand. Bilbo looked at it and then back up at her. “What? You think I was keeping my hands idle while helping Thorin with his crown? You do not have a talent for wood or stone but he needs a bead. We can make a better one later.”

“Thank you.” Freye laughed and kissed her cousin’s forehead. Bilbo showed Thorin the bead and the great king knelt down so Bilbo could braid it into his hair.

They settled in for dinner, Beorn listening to tales that Bilbo spun. Some the dwarrows had already heard, others they had not; in either case, the dwarrows listened to the stories with rapt attention.

A tapping caught Beorn’s attention. Perched on the windowsill was a large hawk, one large enough to carry off a small dog. It had a package in its talons with a safety line tied to its leg. Beorn went over and took the line off. He gave the bird instructions to see the other birds for food.

“It waits for a reply,” Beorn told them. He handed the package over to Freye. “From Rivendell.”

“Responses from the Shire?” Bilbo inquired.

“Must be, still too soon from Ered Luin,” Freye said. She opened the package and pulled out one small book, several plain wrapped letters, and one in a more elegant envelope and tied carefully closed. “Responses from them all and two letters from Lord Elrond. Ah, the book is from Lady Galadriel, a healing text. She sent if for Óin and me.”

“Well, read them,” Dwalin prompted. Freye chuckled and opened up the first letter, from Hamfast.

“It’s from Hamfast,” Freye told Bilbo. “’Dear Mister Bilbo and Miss Freye. I was glad to hear from you. I will be honest, Mister Bilbo’s leaving has given my family quite the scare. We were not sure how he would fair out in the wilds but if you say he is fine then he must be. Don’t think I didn’t notice your lack of status on yourself, Miss Freye. I’m going to take it you’re injured. Heal quickly.

“’Lobelia did indeed try to snoop in Bag End, same day I got your letter from Rivendell. She claimed it was vacant now that Bilbo was gone, and it should be occupied. I told her Mister Drogo was coming to watch the house for you, but she insisted that he had no claim and you had clearly gone mad and your word was not to be trusted. I told her Freye wrote the instructions and she’s his current heir and overseer of the Baggins properties if you are ever indisposed, even the Thain knows that.'" Freye stopped and looked at her cousin. "Am I really? I thought Drogo was your first heir."

"Well, I thought Bag End could be filled with children from you one day. You'll live longer than I will. I thought you might need a home one day, when you tired of Bree. Drogo is my second heir."

"I love Bag End, Cousin, but Drogo will fill it better. Besides, too much dwarf in me to live in the Shire long. Now then, what does Hamfast say. Ah. 'She tried to argue that Miss Freye was not a hobbit.’ Oh dear,” Freye said as she read the next line and began chuckling. She put her hand to her face, trying to stop the laughter.

“What is it?” Bilbo asked. Fíli, perched next to Freye, snagged the letter and cleared his throat.

“’Ma heard what she said, having come up to Bag End to give me lunch. She grabbed the broom I was using to clear the steps and walloped Lobelia on the head. Then she chased Lobelia down Bagshot Row, screaming that she brought shame on every hobbit by disowning one of the Took line because she had a little mixed blood. It took Da, Farmer Maggot, and three Bounders to pull Ma off Lobelia from where she had chased her into the market. The Thain wasn’t too happy with Ma but took her side of the case, stating that Ma was simply looking after Bag End in your absence as my family was instructed. He may have stretched your letter’s instructions a bit, but it was better than Lobelia moving in. Now Otho is trying to demand Bag End because of his Baggins name and said that Mister Bilbo would certainly die on his adventure. Drogo and several of your Took cousins chased him back to his smial and threw eggs at his doors and windows.’” Fíli looked from Freye, who was laughing and couldn’t stop, to Bilbo, who looked shocked and appalled. “Seems like Bilbo isn’t the only fighting hobbit there is. Lobelia, isn’t that the hobbit that was watching us in Bag End?”

“Quite right, Fíli. Lobelia has been after Bag End since before she even reached her majority. She tried to court Bilbo several times. She finally stopped after Belladonna Baggins, just a week shy of her own death, found the strength to throw Lobelia into a shallow pond and call her every name in the book,” Gandalf remarked. “Last time I saw Belladonna, but she was fiery until the end.”

“What else does Hamfast say?” Bilbo asked, partially dreading the answer.

Fíli turned back to the letter and read, “’Mister Drogo moved into Bag End the day your letter was received. He had been checking on it daily but with Lobelia’s actions, he decided to live in Bag End. Mistress Brynye sent a letter from the road. She’s only a week out, the horses of the elves moving faster than her old pony, or so she says. She’s going to stop in Bree for her things and then move in with Mister Drogo. She says two swords are better than one when it comes to the Sackville-Baggins. I’m tending Bag End by myself, an exercise in my skills according to Mister Holman, and I do not want a bonus. Just come back safe. Be safe Mister Bilbo, Miss Freye. The Shire would not be the same without you. My siblings and I want to hear the tale of your adventure when you return. Sincerely yours, Hamfast Gamgee.’” Fíli smiled at the kind words and handed the letter down to Bilbo. He smiled at the familiar scrawl.

“Sounds like a good hobbit,” Balin remarked.

“Oh yes. The Gamgees are one of my tenants; their family have been tenants since my father was the Baggins of Bag End. Hobson, that’s Hamfast’s father, he has been a loyal friend for many years. I swore to take in his children if another Fell Winter ever happened, if he and his wife fell to it. Loyal folk the Gamgees.”

“Not to mention they find the wives that can make the best food in all the Shire,” Freye commented. “Their apple pies, oh, more than one fauntling has stolen one off a windowsill or at least tried. I think Bilbo was the only one to ever nick one from Rowan, Hamfast’s grandmother. I got caught, though with Bilbo's distraction I got one.”

“What of the other letters?” Bilbo asked. Freye took out the next one, from Drogo, and opened it. She chuckled at the first line.

“’Cousins, curse you all for leaving me scrambling. I love you both but trying to deal with Lobelia newly minted Sackville-Baggins is a nightmare. You couldn’t have given me a day’s notice? Long enough to make the arrangements and move to Bag End before she could start trouble? Be warned, you’re getting a pie to the face when you return.

“’Now then, I found the sword you left Freye. Very sharp and pointy. I’ve taken to wearing it around Bag End. It’s been very effective at keeping Lobelia and Otho as far from here as possible. The Thain does not want a repeat of the other day. Ferumbras, Adelard, Sigismond, and I chased him from the Great Smial and back to his house, eggs flying. I think Sigismond managed to hit him with a soft apple too; we heard a splat. Dora and Dudo helped us too; they kept handing us eggs and apples.’”

“You left Drogo a sword?” Bilbo demanded.

“What? He needed something to fend Lobelia off if Hamfast’s shovel didn’t work,” Freye defended.

“He’s just barely an adult.”

“All the better.” The two cousins stared at each other before she turned back to the letter. “’Aunt Belba is upset with you Bilbo. She says that next time you have to let her know before you go running off. She had a nice oilskin you could have used and some knives too. She’s also damn proud of you. She says it’s a good thing you finally started taking after your mother. She was worried you were going to be a shut-in bachelor for the rest of your life.

“’Take care of yourselves out there. I want you both hale and whole and able to attend my wedding to Prim in a few years. If you don’t come back, I’ll come out there and drag you back for the wedding and Prim swore she will help.’ Oh, look at that, Prim must have been next to him. She stole his feather. ‘If you don’t come back Bilbo, I’ll march to Yavanna’s Gardens and pull you all the way back to the world of the living. That goes for you too Freye. Can’t have a wedding without my favorite cousins. And I expect plenty of stories. You understand me you--.’ Oh, looks like Drogo managed to get the feather back, last word is all messed up. ‘Sorry about that. Now then, I’ve got Bag End taken care of, but I look forward to Brynye’s arrival. She can make some of those wonderful cookies and sit outside polishing those axes of hers. Should scare away the troublemakers. Good luck, cousins. Praying for you, Drogo Baggins.’”

“Does anyone like Lobelia?” Bofur asked curiously.

“Yeah, her mother and her husband. Her mother because Lobelia takes right after her and her husband because she’s, evidently, good at—.” Freye punched her cousin before he could finish. “What?”

“That’s a vicious rumor and you won’t spread it. Just because they didn’t court properly and got caught.”

“It was a knife-to-the-throat-wedding,” Bilbo explained. “They got caught in Farmer Maggot’s fields. I am so glad the Sackville-Baggins are not my problem. I gladly let Otho’s father deal with them.”

“Hobbits don’t fool around before marrying?” Kíli asked.

“Oh, they do, but mostly as tweens. As a tween, they can’t have children, almost guaranteed. Hit your majority? Children could happen after one romp in the hay, hobbit fertility and all. I never partook in that. No one caught my eye back then.” Bilbo looked over at Thorin who took his hand and kissed it.

“Saps,” Dwalin said.

“We’ve got one from the Thain too,” Freye told her cousin. She cut the seal and unfolded the paper. “Oh…”

“Freye?”

“’Bilbo Baggins you are in so much trouble! Cousin you left me with a mess the size of Arda. How am I supposed to deal with the Sackville-Baggins when you run off without telling me beforehand? Thank Yavanna for Cousin Freye, otherwise I would still be debating with Lobelia and Otho. Next time tell me!

“’Cousin Freye, watch out for that idiot, would you? You two are acting as envoys of the Shire, I hope you realize that. If you make a fool of yourselves, it comes back to us. I would like to be able to show my face in Bree again. I can’t wait for your grandmother to get here; she’ll shut up the relatives.

“’Now, officially as Thain, I command that you don’t make fools of yourselves and strive to create relations with the peoples you encounter. The harvests have been a little unbalanced this year and the priestess of Yavanna think next year will be similar. We have too many potatoes and too few carrots and such. We’ll have to trade. There’s also been a lack of small game, likely thanks to a torrential rain we had a few weeks ago. It caused mudslides and dens were flooded or covered. If you meet those who might trade, send them our way.

“’Be safe. I want to see you both home safe. Cousin Fortinbras.’” Freye looked up at Bilbo who was staring at the table. “Didn’t think Fort would be that emotional over all that,” Freye commented.

“He’s just looking out for us,” Bilbo replied.

“I’ll send a letter to Ered Luin.” The two cousins looked up at Thorin. “We could use the potatoes and we should be able to get enough small and large game for the Shire. It’ll be cured but it is better than none. We also have the other dwarfish settlements; I will have Dís send out letters asking them to trade with the Shire.”

“Thorin, that’s too much,” Bilbo said.

“No. You are my intended. The Shire is your home. I will help your people as best I can.” Bilbo grinned and hugged his intended.

Everyone seemed to forget about Elrond’s letter except Freye. She found a place after dinner and sat down with the last two letters. The first was from, surprisingly, Elladan and Elrohir.

 

 

> Miss Freye,
> 
> We hope you are well. The White Council met as you fled. Grandmother sensed you as you left. She was not angry with Mithrandir, more like amused. Saruman the White, however, stormed off muttering about meddling Grey Wizards and their blind charges. Don’t take offense, he’s a grouchy either way.
> 
> Father hopes you have made it over the Misty Mountains safely. He was more than happy to have your letters delivered. He also mentioned he will be contacting the Thain for trade. Your cousin mentioned something about uneven harvests in his letter to Father. He also sends a letter himself, of an official capacity. Father has Seen that you will have trouble in the Mirkwood and even more trouble past that. He senses you will need healers. We leave soon to reach you. The storms in the Misty Mountains have been fierce; we may be slowed. We bring with us two more healers, several horses carrying supplies, and four of the best hunters in Rivendell. Father wishes for us to help you where we can. He says it will strengthen the ties between elves and dwarves.
> 
> The letter he has enclosed is meant to help you pass through the Mirkwood. Our sister, Lady Arwen, rides with Glorfindel to meet you. They ride from Lothlorien. Our sister is one of the best healers known to the elves, second perhaps only to our father and grandmother. His letter dictates that you are escorting her through the Mirkwood to the Iron Hills where they have business and you do as well. The letter is written in Westron, you can see what Father wrote himself. If you reach the Mirkwood path before they arrive, be careful. They will catch up. You will know our sister easily, she looks quite like father and ourselves. Glorfindel is blond and easily noticeable.
> 
>   
>  Be safe.  
>  Elladan and Elorhir
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Conditions of Engagement.
> 
> Agreed hereto, freely and under neither duress nor force nor coercion nor extortion nor threat of life and/or limb, and superseding any prior contract, agreement or undertaking, signed and witnessed below, as set forth hereunder:
> 
> We, the undersigned, [referred to hereinafter as the Company of Thorin Oakenshield] agree to escort Lady Arwen to the Iron Hills for trade talks and collection of rare herbs known only to the Iron Hills alongside their own task of trade talks between the Iron Hills and the Blue Mountains.
> 
> The aforementioned journey shall proceed in a timely manner and with all due-care and consideration as seen fit by said company, numbering thirteen dwarves, one hobbit, one half-hobbit half-dwarf, and a wizard (if said wizard has not run off to cause trouble as a wizard does).
> 
> Payment to follow, delivered by Elladan and Elorhir in form of additional supplies and cash.
> 
> The Company of Thorin Oakenshield shall meet Lady Arwen and Lord Glorfindel either at the mouth of the Old Road through Mirkwood or inside Mirkwood, following said path. The date of said meeting is unknown as the two parties are travelling separately to meet with one another. If the Company of Thorin Oakenshield arrives prior to Lady Arwen and Lord Glorfindel, they are to begin scouting the road through Mirkwood and, if reaching the other side without meeting their companions, are to double back for them.
> 
> Early termination of the contract, while unlikely, will result in fair compensation for their efforts.
> 
> The task undertaken is entirely at the peril of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.
> 
>   
>  Signed: Lord Elrond of Rivendell  
>  Witnessed: Brynye Took
> 
> Lindir, Steward of Rivendell
> 
> Elladan, Son of Elrond
> 
> Elrohir, Son of Elrond  
>  Signed:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>   
>  King Thranduil,
> 
> If you stop the Company of Thorin Oakenshield while they are in my employ, you are to release them immediately and allow them to continue. They are on my orders and under the protection of my house in all elfish lands.
> 
> Additionally, three members of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield wield elfish blades. I have inspected and bequeathed said blades to them. The wielders are Thorin Oakenshield, Gandalf the Grey, and Bilbo Baggins. They found the blades in a troll hoard, one that I have sent Erestor and several others to inspect. These blades are theirs; if you take them, you will have to deal with myself and the Lady of Lothlorien.
> 
> Let them pass through your lands. If you do not, my daughter will report your actions to me. Several birds will accompany the Company, out of sight but close enough to report your actions to me. If you do ill toward the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, you will face the combined wrath of myself and the Lady of Lothlorien.
> 
> Perhaps your son will escort them the rest of the way through the woods. I hear they are particularly treacherous as of late. Do you need help with your spider problem?  
>    
>  Lord Elrond
> 
>   
>  Supported by Galadriel of Lothlorien
> 
> (Oppose me if you dare Thranduil. If my granddaughter comes to harm because of you, you will wish the spiders were your only problem.)

 

Freye began laughing. Fíli and Thorin looked at her as if she had lost her sense. She motioned them over and gave them the letters.

“We did not ask for their aid,” Thorin said confused.

“Lord Elrond says I remind him of his daughter, Lady Arwen. The twins bonded well with the Company. Estel’s mother has some influence; I would suspect she had words with Elrond to see to our safe passage through Mirkwood. I told her son I would see him again after all,” Freye remarked.

“You’re going to be our ambassador one day,” Thorin informed her. “Fíli, get ink and a feather. We have signing to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought I should explain something. I looked at the timeline for The Hobbit and calculated how long it would take to make the journey. Here's the thing, the Company rests at Rivendell and Beorn's, they are captured for a time in Mirkwood, and then they have time in Lake-Town. As much as the deadline is pushed in the movie, they actually had time to spare. Hence these rests. Also, take into consideration that I am playing with canon so things change.


	9. 7-14-2941, Beorn’s Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second couple starts courting.

The forging was finished at the time Thorin and Freye anticipated. That meant they had to now equip themselves with their weapons of choice. Beorn, for being such a gracious host, even received more knives and axes than his original order. His opinion of dwarrows was slowly changing.

After Dori, Nori, and Ori had finished making the new packs, Freye gave a hefty amount of arrowheads to the group. She sketched out vambraces, skin-guards, back braces, anything that could have a hidden secondary layer where the arrowheads could be concealed and kept safe during their travel. Kíli had found enough feathers that they had extras, extras that could be slipped into small pouches in the new armor for safekeeping.

Fíli received more of the arrowheads. She gave him freedom in his decision of what to make. He ran off to talk to Thorin for a moment, something about a design he had in mind, and snagged Bofur and Bilbo to chat with as well.

That meant Kíli and Freye could finally settle down to start making arrows. Dwalin, Fíli, and Kíli had found plenty of wood to make arrows from. Bofur and Bifur, released from helping Dori for now, helped them shape the arrows. Kíli did the detail work in preparation of his and Freye’s long day of making arrows. It was a long day but they had eventually finished, both having enough arrows to tightly pack their new quivers. Kíli went in to help with dinner while Freye worked on polishing the last set of daggers she had forged. They were more intricate than the other blades she had made with Thorin.

Fíli walked up to her as she cleaned the last little bit of dirt off the blades. He knelt down in front of her, offering her the leather and metal hairpiece, the glint of arrowheads shining through narrow cuts and holes in the band that formed runes of protection and more. She placed her fingers on the last few runes, a declaration of love and protection. He swallowed and looked her in the eyes.

“Fíli, it’s beautiful.”

“I hoped you would see it that way.” He placed his hand over hers, pleading eyes staring up at her. “Freye daughter of Frye Brynyeul and Asta Sitaul, you captured my heart from nearly the second I met you.” The gloxinia flower delicately embroidered into the band told her that much; the primrose he had added made her heart tighten up even more than the gloxinia. He must have talked to Bilbo about flowers…or Thorin had told him after making the flower crown. Oh, they were crafty those two. “You are strong and brave. I would have you by my side for the rest of my life if I can. Would you do me the great honor of courtship and, eventually, of being my wife? You are my One; I have no doubt of it.”

“You beat me to it you stubborn dwarf.” She pulled the daggers from her lap, the inscriptions in both glinting in the sunset. It was their names and the date they had met. She flipped them over to show him the runes of protection she had carved. “I was going to ask you once I finished polishing these. I made Thorin a new easy to conceal blade for the family gift, he already accepted.”

“Your grandmother accepted mine as well. So that’s a yes then?”

“Yes, you foolish dwarf.” She pulled him up, kissing him soundly on the lips and leaning her forehead against his. His smile was brighter than the sun. They swapped gifts, leaning into each other and practically glowing with happiness. “Help me wash and redo my braids?” she asked.

“Only if you do the same for me, amrâlimê.”

No one was at the stream when they arrived. They undressed, something that they had become more comfortable with thanks to being on the road and the communal baths at Rivendell. They waded into the deeper water, helping each other with their hair and getting the toughest of the dirt out of their skin. The water was too cool to stay in for long. They dried off and dressed. They headed back to the house where there were brushes to use. Freye took the time to clean their beads and hummed as Fíli took to softly combing her hair. He put in her normal braids, knowing them well from hours of staring at her, and then put in a courtship braid. He took a few strands and formed a small braided circlet that met and trailed down her back. To pin her hair away from her face, he put on her new hairpiece. He used the marriage bead of Fifur in her hair for their courtship bead, promising to change it for a bead carved by his own hand as soon as they had the time.

Freye switched placed with Fíli. Her fingers ran through his long tresses and weaved them into splendid braids, matches to his own as well as a few more. The most important one was the courtship braid. She used Isolde’s bead in his hair, promising to forge him a new one when they were safe in Erebor. He simply grinned and gave her a peck on the cheek. She giggled and leaned into his back, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him on the temple. His hands wrapped around hers, holding them close to his heart.

“They’re going to be unbearable now, aren’t they?” Kíli voiced. The pair looked over at him and spotted him standing beside Bilbo and Bofur.

“Oh completely,” Bilbo agreed. Freye gave her cousin a playful shove before following them to where dinner was being served. Thorin gave her a hug, welcoming her to the family.

It wasn’t just family though, it was home. If both Thorin and Bilbo bent the courtship rules a bit, allowing the pair to be alone and to hold each other at night, well, they reasoned the danger of the quest. After all, they were doing the same thing much to the amusement of many of the Company.


	10. 7-20-2941, Beorn’s Home

They planned to leave in the morning, just before first light. With their last night at Beorn’s came a somber feeling. Bofur and Bifur attempted to fix that, pulling out their newly whittled flutes and playing merry tunes. The laughter from all present, even some of the animals, livened the group. Songs were sung, stories told to tunes, the night turned into a party.

“Freye, do you sing?” Ori asked.

“Oh, I don’t know many songs,” she answered. “Most of them are hobbit songs, you wouldn’t know them.”

“Surely Bilbo could join you in singing one. Only one he’s taught us is that drinking song he wrote,” Bofur told her.

“Oh, oh no. I don’t sing!” Bilbo insisted. “Can’t sing worth anything, very bad at it indeed.”

“You can play a flute though.” She caught his eye. He glared right back. “Cousin.”

“No.”

“Come on, they asked.”

“Freye.”

“Just one song.”

“Will you stop bugging me if I do?”

“Guaranteed.” Didn’t mean the others would but she wasn’t going to mention that. Bilbo borrowed Bofur’s flute and tested the scale before nodding. Freye hummed the opening bars, Bilbo picking it up after remembering the tune.

“Sounds elfish,” Dwalin commented to Thorin. The king-in-exile shushed his old friend.

“Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay /Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li lai-lay,” her humming hauntingly filled the room. “Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby / Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay / And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow/ Bless you with love for the road that you go.” She hummed as she circled the group, resting her hand on Fíli’s shoulder and squeezing. “May you sail far to the far fields of fortune / With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet / And may you need never to banish misfortune / May you find kindness in all that you meet.” She spun in the center of the hearth’s glow, her hair flaring out around her. “May there always be angels to watch over you / To guide you each step of the way / To guard you and keep you safe from all harm / Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay.” She started humming again as she circled the other members of the Company, her tender touches filling them with the warmth of a sister or mother that they had forgotten. “May you bring love and may you bring happiness / Be loved in return to the end of your days / Now fall off to sleep, I'm not meaning to keep you / I'll just sit for a while and sing loo-li, lai-lay / May there always be angels to watch over you / To guide you each step of the way / To guard you and keep you safe from all harm / Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay /Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li lai-lay.”

The dwarrows remained silent as they finished the song. A few, Dori most noticeably, had to wipe tears away. Bilbo took a moment before handing the flute back to Bofur. The cousins bowed to the Company before returning to their seats. Fíli pulled Freye close, his arms wrapped around her protectively and his lips resting against her forehead.

“That was lovely, lass. Thank you,” Dwalin said.

“Thank you, and you were right, it does have some elfish roots. It's one of the oldest songs of the Hobbits, left over from when there were still elves among them, ones that would sail away one day. Now then, I’m afraid the rest of the songs I know are either tavern songs or funeral songs really,” she confessed. “Bofur, why not sing the song Bilbo taught you.”

“Gladly.” He jumped up onto a bench. “There is an inn, a merry old inn / beneath an old grey hill, And there they brew a beer so brown / That the man in the Moon himself came down / One night to drink his fill!” Bofur’s crazy rendition of the sound had the party laughing full-bellied, even Beorn. They moved on to a few other songs before everyone became lost as to what song to do next.

Thorin leaned forward to Freye and asked softly, “Do you know the ‘Song of Exile?’”

She quoted the first line, “Land of bear and land of eagle."

“Aye, that’s the one.”

“My amad sung it to me. One of the few dwarfish songs I still remember.”

“Would you sing it? I’d like to hear it again and I find a woman has the best voice for it. Please.”

“I need someone to carry the tune.” He gave her a nod and left the group for a moment. He returned with a harp, it was a little battered but as Thorin tested the cords, it would still play. “Where on Arda did you get that?”

“We are not the first dwarrows to pass Beorn’s, but the last group did not have the talents of a wizard and an apprentice healer to save them from the trouble on the road. Give me a few stanzas to warm up; I already tuned it.” She nodded in agreement.

The talking stopped as Thorin began to play. The harp sounded smooth and clean, the notes ringing true. Thorin gave her a nod when he was ready.

“Land of bear and land of eagle / Land that gave us birth and blessing / Land that called us ever homewards / We will go home across the mountains.” The older dwarrows, those who had heard the first songs of hope after Erebor had been taken knew the song instantly. Bilbo and the youngest trio of dwarrows were at a loss. “We will go home, we will go home / We will go home across the mountains / We will go home, we will go home / We will go home across the mountains.” Balin’s eyes were starting to become misty. Freye walked over to him, grasping his shoulders in a show of support. “Land of freedom land of heroes / Land that gave us hope and memories / Hear our singing hear our longing / We will go home across the mountains.” She continued with the chorus while she circled the dwarrows and finally pulled Fíli up from his spot. She stroked his hair as she sang, “Land of sun and land of moonlight / Land that gave us joy and sorrow / Land that gave us love and laughter / We will go home across the mountains.” Fíli began to sway with her as she sung the chorus, his hands firm on her hips and keeping her steady even as emotions reached her eyes and nearly her voice. “When the land is there before us / We have gone home across the mountains / We will go home, we will go home / We will go home across the mountains.”

Thorin placed the harp to the side one he was finished. He stood up and collected his soon-to-be-niece in his arms as she began to weep. He too had tears, but he refused to shed them.

“Thank you, my dear. I haven’t heard that song since the last time my mother sang it to me. It does my heart good to hear it again.” She nodded into his chest, wiping at her eyes. He kissed the top of her head and transferred her to Fíli’s waiting arms. He murmured reassuring words to her.

Thorin sent them to bed shortly after. Fíli curled around his beloved, Kund at his back and giving them both kisses. Kíli did not sleep separately as he had for the past few nights. Instead, he laid down on Freye’s other side and put his arm over her and grabbed the back of his brother’s shirt. The Sons of Durin enveloped her in warmth and comfort. It was very much appreciated.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I clearly don't own the songs. 
> 
> So the first song that Freye sings is "Sleepson" by Secret Garden. I found the song in two of my favorite fanvids:
> 
> https://youtu.be/ZGfTPqOnqh8  
> https://youtu.be/3y_aqqy7Tdk
> 
> I think it's a beautiful song. The second song is called "Song of Exile" which is actually an Old Norse poem but gained more fame (at least where I first heard it) in King Arthur. I think it fits the dwarrows very well don't you? 
> 
> King Arthur version: https://youtu.be/--1m-DPfsEc
> 
> My favorite full version: https://youtu.be/wtngVxsiKSA


End file.
